^^M&immm^ 


iiixaiys-v^-/-'  •••  ■;•■'■•'.< 


WK*.;iawMCklWMUKl»U:MIH&->H-i»!WS>r.«»^' 


IN  THE   HEART   OF   KWANGTUNG 

On  a  clay's  outing  with  the  Father 


OBSERVATIONS 
IN  THE  ORIENT 


lF 


JIMUHltllMWHHUIIIIUIllWUUMIUilMHlltUUMUItMHUIIIimilDIUItlUMtUirWtHUIUUUtUIJHUlUIUWtllHIIIMlWHWIMlUMIiaillUWUIUMUIIMI 

THE  ACCOUNT  OF  A  JOURNEY  TO  CATHOLIC 
MISSION  FIELDS  IN  JAPAN,  KOREA,  MANCHURIA, 
CHINA,     INDO-CHINA.     AND    THE     PHILIPPINES 


By  the 

VERY  REVEREND  JAMES  A.  WALSH 

Superior  of  Maryknoll 


PUBLISHED  BY 

CATHOLIC  FOREIGN  MISSION  SOCIETY 
OF  AMERICA 

OSSINING     ::     NEW  YORK 


Arthur  J.  Scanlan,  S.T.  D. 

Censor  of  Books 


imprimatur 

Patrick  J.  Hayes,  D.  D. 

Archbishop  of  New  York 


Copyright,  1919,  by  the 

Catholic  Forkign  Mission  Society 

Ossining,  N.  Y. 


(8^0  tfje  memorp  of 

Joljn  Carbinal  jFarlep 

prince  of  tfje  Cturcfj 

^elobeb  of  W  flock 

patron  of  all  goob  toorbs( 

for  ^ob  anb  Countrp 

jFrienb  of  tfje  itlissionsf 

jfatfjertoiWarpbnoll 

tf)i£(    bolume    isf 

affectionatelp   bebicateb. 


PREFACE 

Perhaps  it  is  because  of  my  own  early 
experiences  as  a  missioner  in  China  that  I  fol- 
lowed with  especially  keen  interest  in  The  Field 
Afar  the  series  of  papers  that  appeared  last 
year  under  the  title  of  A  Pioneer's  Log. 

In  reading  these  letters  from  the  Orient  it 
often  occurred  to  me  that,  if  published  in  book 
form,  they  would  make  a  valuable  addition  to 
the  yet  scanty  stock  of  English  literature  on 
the  vital  subject  of  Foreign  Missions;  and  I 
am  happy  to  learn  that  this  has  now  been  done. 

I  hope  and  believe  that  thousands  of  Amer- 
ican Catholics,  through  these  pages,  will  be 
brought  to  a  fuller  realization  of  the  share  which 
the  Catholic  body  in  this  great  Republic  is  so 
evidently  called  by  Divine  Providence  to  take 
in  the  evangelization  of  the  heathen  world. 

Today  our  Holy  Father  can  hardly  look  else- 
where than  to  America  if  he  would  replenish 
the  decimated  ranks  of  his  Apostolic  army  and 
sustain  it  in  its  fight  against  the  hosts  of  Satan. 
Besides,  the  Church  in  the  United  States  must 
not.  fail  to  develop,  in  its  widest  expression, 
the  missionary  spirit,  which  is  the  surest 
guaranty  that  its  present  vigorous  life  shall  be 

[vii] 


sustained  and  strengthened.  This  volume,  the 
latest  fruit  of  Maryknoll  activities,  should, 
therefore,  receive  a  warm  welcome  and  a  wide 
patronage. 

Maryknoll,  the  National  Seminary  for  Amer- 
ican foreign  missions,  is  becoming  a  household 
word  in  the  United  States.  May  Observations 
in  the  Orient  endear  it  still  more  to  all  who 
have  been  following  its  progress  and  bring  to 
it,  for  the  great  cause  of  Christ,  a  host  of  loyal 
friends. 


[viii] 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface vii 

Chapter  I 
From  Maryknoll  to  the  Golden  Gate 1 

Chapter  II 
On  the  Pacific 16 

Chapter  III 
The  Island  Empire 32 

Chapter  IV 
Northward  to  Nikko  and  Sendai 47 

Chapter  V 
A  Tour  Through  the  Dioceses 61 

Chapter  VI 
In  Korea 82 

Chapter  VII 
Through  Manchuria  to  Tientsin 98 

Chapter  VIII 
With  the  Lazarists  in  Peking  and  Chengtingfu.  .    117 

Chapter  IX 
Franciscan  Hospitality  at  Hankow 131 

Chapter  X 
Up  the  Yangtze  to  Shanghai 143 

[ix] 


PAGE 

Chapter  XI 
A  Dip  into  the  Interior 155 

Chapter  XII 
Shanghai  and  Hongkong 175 

Chapter  XIII 
A  Memorable  Christmas 191 

Chapter  XIV 
Maryknoll's  First  Mission 210 

Chapter  XV 
Under  the  American  Flag 224 

Chapter  XVI 
A  Trip  to  Indo-China 243 

Chapter  XVII 
At  the  Frontier  of  China 263 

Chapter  XVIII 
Where  St.  Francis  Xavier  Died 278 

Chapter  XIX 
Homeward 294 

Chapter  XX 
Some  Impressions 308 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Opposite  Page 
Frontispiece 

Maryknoll-on-the-Hudson 2 

Maryknoll-at-Scranton 6 

Mormon  Temple.    Great  Salt  Lake 10 

Seminary  at  Menlo  Park,  San  Francisco 14 

A  Catholic  Missioner  in  the  Land  of  His  Adoption  ...  18 

A  Japanese  Liner.    The  Palms  of  Honolulu 22 

Navigation  on  Chinese  Waters 28 

Yokohama — Its  Harbor  and  a  Main  Street 32 

Archbishop  Petrelli  in  Japan.    The  Sacred  Heart 

Church  at  Yokohama 36 

At  the  Jesuit  College,  Tokyo 40 

Brothers  of  Mary  of  Tokyo 44 

Pagan  Priests  at  Nikko 48 

Scenes  at  Nikko 50 

Children  of  Sendai.    Ancestor  Worship 54 

At  Fukushima 62 

Some  of  the  Treasures  of  Japan 64 

Veterans  in  the  Service  of  Their  Master 68 

The  Feast  of  Corpus  Christi  in  Osaka 74 

The  Mission  at  Taikou.    Korean  Market 82 

Cathedral  of  Seoul.    Typical  Korean  Hut 86 

Bishop  Mutel  with  his  Little  Folks 92 

The  Benedictine  School  at  Seoul 96 

A  Street  in  Mukden.    The  Cathedral 100 

French  Nuns  at  Mukden.    In  the  Compound 104 

Seminarians  of  Mukden.    The  Station 106 

Flood  Scenes  in  Tientsin 110 

The  Tientsin  Compound 114 

[xil 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

Opposite  Page 

Students  OF  THE  Peitang.    Cathedral  of  Peking 118 

The  New  Government  Hospital  at  Peking 122 

Sisters  of  Charity  at  Chengtingfu 124 

A  Chinese  Sister.    Bishop  De  Vienne  and  Seminarians  128 

From  the  Train  Window  En  Route  to  Hankow 132 

Recollections  of  Hankow 136 

The  Catholic  College  in  Wuchang 140 

Establishment  of  the  Canossian  Sisters,  Hankow 142 

Buddhist  Monastery.    Missioners  of  Kiukiang 144 

KULING 146 

Views  of  Shanghai 148 

Mr.  Lo  Pa  Hong.    In  St.  Joseph's  Hospital 152 

The  Jesuit  Church  at  Sicawei 154 

The  Mission  Buildings  at  Ningpo 156 

On  the  Island  of  Chusan 160 

Through  the  Chusan  Archipelago 164 

Haimen — A  Monument  to  Efficiency 166 

Chinese  Sisters.    Mission  Buildings  at  Taichowfu 168 

The  Bishop's  House  at  Ningpo 172 

A  Jesuit  Mission  Compound 176 

The  Picnic  at  Hangchow 180 

Views  of  Hongkong 184 

Street  in  Hongkong.    Bp.  Pozzoni  with  His  Priests.  . .  188 

Custom-House  at  Canton.    The  Bund 192 

The  Canton  Cathedral.    The  Bishop's  House 194 

A  Country  Mission.    Women  Workers  of  China 198 

The  Leper  Islands  of  Sheklung 202 

The  Heroic  Priests  of  Sheklung 206 

Macao 210 

At  Shiuhing 212 

En  Route  to  the  Maryknoll  Mission 216 

[xii] 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— Continued 

'  Opposite  Page 

A  Street  in  Old  China 220 

A  Christian  Settlement.    A  Chinese  Houseboat 222 

Prelates  of  Manila 226 

Around  and  About  Manila 234 

Reminders  of  the  Ages  of  Faith 240 

Traveling  in  Tongking 244 

At  the  Mission  in  Haiphong 250 

Annamite  Priest.    Pere  Cothonay  at  Langson 258 

Indo-Chinese  of  Cao-bang 266 

French  and  Spanish  Bishops  in  Tongking 270 

Shameen,  the  Foreign  Concession 276 

In  a  Chinese  Inn.    Chinese  River  Craft 282 

Memorial  Chapel  at  Sancian.    Children  of  the  Mission  284 

At  Sancian  Island  with  Fr.  Thomas 288 

Traveling  in  China 292 

At  the  School  of  the  Canadian  Sisters,  Canton 296 

The  Tsu  Family  of  Shanghai 298 

Fujiyama.    The  Inland  Sea 304 

Maryknoll's  First  Apostles  to  China 310 

Bishop  de  Guebriant  and  His  Seminarians  at  Canton.  314 

Map  of  the  Maryknoll  Mission  in  China 318 


{xiiil 


aiuiiiiuiiiitfiitiiiinuiiimuin<iiu«iiiiuNiiiiJiintuiiuiuuiuuHuuiu4iiunttiMiiiiHuain 
-  •mimiuuii  [iiriiiiiiimiuiiiiniinf >*"""■'""'"'"""""■'■"*■  """"""^"'" 

ii 


11 

c  = 


Observations  in  the  Orient       || 

r  ;;.im[i[iininnn(fTiiiTnninnMnnTmrutnniiniwTtnniTiTiRniiintiniinnnnininninKRmfnnnnnifnt^  ■ 

nuiminvTi  nil  II  ri  tnnnin  II  ri  HiB  I  nmn"'"m'i^""*""' '"""""■■"■"*""""  "■'■'""■" l^.ll^llllHlmlt^ll■lll»l^lmM■l■lll]l■Mrnl^lM^plHlHlll.^lrlM^lllMtll^ll^il^■^ln^1llnlVl^l■^|^ri^Pl*n■»lBP■■^^-'™"^[Ttm^f1nllllnl^ 

CHAPTER  I 

FROM  MARYKNOLL  TO  THE  GOLDEN  GATE 

September,  1917. 

DIEU,  Maryknoll!  A  Dieu!  To  God!  In  His 
hands  thou  art  secure,  and  under  the  protecting 
favors  of  her  who  mothered  the  Saviour  of  men  all 
will  be  well  with  thee! 

It  was  a  real  tug  at  the  heart-strings,  the  get- 
^  away  on  that  beautiful  bright  morning  in  early 
September, — the  third,  to  be  exact.  The  great 
river  seemed  never  so  near,  the  little  chapel  never  so  attractive, 
the  Departure  Hymn  never  so  significant.  The  actual  parting 
at  the  Seminary  porch  dropped  into  solemnity  as  soon  as  it 
began,  much  as  we  would  have  had  it  otherwise;  and  down  at 
St.  Teresa's,  where  tears  and  smiles  come  more  or  less  readily, 
the  handshake  and  blessing  could  not  be  too  brief  for  the  father 
of  the  flock. 

Even  Collie  seemed  to  realize  the  seriousness  of  the  moment, 
as,  with  ears  at  perpendicular  and  eyes  jumping,  he  stood  silently 
observing  until  the  friendly  car  had  whisked  the  traveler  out  of 
sight  and  hearing. 

Au  revoir,  Maryknollers!  Until  we  meet.  When?  Where? 
Only  God  knows,  but  we  dare  to  hope  that  it  will  be  again  at 
the  Knoll,  within  six  short  months,  and  that  when  the  roll  is 
called  that  day  all  who  witnessed  our  first  departure  for  a  field 
afar  will  be  there  to  make  so  much  the  happier  the  welcome  home. 


Elizabeth,  now  battered  enough  to  be  called  Liz — Elizabeth  the 
once  graceful  and  tidy  motor-truck — followed  with  the  bags  and 
a  few  attendants,  and  with  characteristic  restlessness  arrived 
ahead  of  us  at  the  Scarborough  Station,  a  quiet  spot  by  the  river 
bank  admirably  suited  to  its  purpose.   We  had  time  to  check  the 

1 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

baggage;  to  pose  before  a  passing  steamer  for  Father  D — 's  own 
and  only  Graflex;  and  to  throw  some  lingering  glances  at  that 
fine  expanse  of  water,  the  Tappan  Zee,  not  to  mention  the  grim 
walls  of  Sing-Sing,  behind  which  was  one  of  Maryknoll's  special 
friends — the  Chaplain,  we  hasten  to  say. 

An  hour  later  we  arrived  in  New  York.  The  great  metropolis 
was  in  holiday  mood.  It  was  Labor  Day,  and  everybody  was  doing 
his  best — some  with  poor  success — not  to  work.  The  dusky 
prince  who  carried  my  large  bag  dropped  it  with  a  thud  as  he 
reached  the  curb  and  said  something  inarticulate  that  was 
uncharitably  interpreted  by  his  hearer.  Though  requested,  he 
would  not  repeat  the  expression,  but  his  good-nature  came  to  the 
surface  again  as  he  closed  his  fist  and  walked  back  to  find  another 
victim. 

We  left  some  friends  at  the  Grand  Central — a  priest,  a 
seminarian,  a  layman,  and  one  representative  of  the  sex  that  on 
such  occasions  is  sure  to  think,  say,  and  do  kind  things.  The 
representative  in  question  did  not  forget  to  request  the  unusual. 
This  time  it  was  a  call  to  bless  her  new  Maryknoll  ring.  Holy 
Water  was  produced  in  a  scent-bottle,  and  the  ceremony  which 
took  place  in  the  Grand  Central  might,  for  all  that  we  who  shared 
in  it  know,  have  been  mistaken  by  the  curious  onlookers  for 
some  hasty  marriage.    We  hope  not. 

Two  Maryknollers  escorted  me  across  the  North  River  to 
Hoboken  {Hobucken,  if  you  are  a  native).  The  ferry-boat  had 
few  passengers — the  holiday  travel  seems  to  favor  getting  away 
from  the  place — and  the  harbor  was  unusually  quiet. 

The  familiar  line  of  tall  buildings  was  extremely  impressive. 
One  at  which  we  looked  rises  in  towering  majesty  with  the  grace 
of  a  noble  cathedral  whose  nave  is  yet  uncompleted,  and  with 
the  others  on  either  side  makes  a  sky-line  unique  in  the  world, 
one  that  may  depress  the  artistic  sense  of  some  newly-arrived 
European  who  sees  in  it  only  the  symbol  of  unrestrained  com- 
mercialism but  that  will  inevitably  grow  on  him  if  he  remains  to 
note  its  different  moods. 

I  have  seen  these  buildings  in  darkness  and  alight — in  clear 
atmosphere  and  enveloped  in  mist — sometimes  half  lost  in 
fleecy  clouds.    I  recall  one  night  when,  returning  from  Scranton, 


a 


3 
J2 


rt 
fe 


T3 
O 
O 


a 

T3 

C 

a 

o    rt 


c 

-^  I 

b  ^ 

rt  o 


C/2 


o 


o 

I 

h-J 
o 

UJ 
>^ 
Pi 
< 


CAl 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  crossed  by  water  to  the  metropolis.  There  was  no  moon  but 
the  stars  were  brilHant,  and  as  we  swung  away  from  the  slip, 
past  the  hulls  of  the  German  liners  and  out  into  the  river,  lower 
Manhattan  loomed  like  a  mighty  mountain.  It  was  late  and 
most  of  the  buildings  were  merely  outlined  in  the  darkness. 
The  highest  of  all  was  bathed  in  a  flood  of  soft  light  that  looked 
like  Roman  gold.  No  glaring  bulbs,  still  or  jumping,  obtruded 
themselves  and  their  owners'  advertisements  on  the  travelers' 
gaze,  and  yet  it  is  safe  to  say  that  not  one  of  the  several  pas- 
sengers failed  to  learn,  if  he  did  not  already  know,  to  whom  that 
structure  belonged.  Every  eye  quickly  found  the  spot  and  was 
riveted  to  it.  A  stranger  beside  me  gasped  admiringly  and 
admitted  that  although  he  came  from  Boston  he  had  to  take  off 
his  hat  to  that  fairy  picture. 

Good-bye,  New  York — mine  of  activities,  breeder  of  vice, 
stimulant  of  heroic  virtue,  home  of  the  good,  the  bad,  the  in- 
different, where  legions  of  devils  roam  and  where  angels  follow 
the  souls  of  men  or  keep  guard  under  the  lights  that  twinkle  in 
hundreds  of  sanctuaries  where  Jesus  dwells  unseen. 

To  the  Venard. 

We  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  boat  to  observe  the 
Vaterland*  the  huge  sea-monster  once  the  pride  of  the  German 
marine  at  whose  stern  was  now  flying  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 
Scores  of  men  were  working  on  and  around  it,  and  we  were  told 
that  hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  American  youths  would  soon 
be  its  passengers,  bound  for  a  destination  far  less  certain  than 
my  own — for  these  are  war-times. 

At  Hoboken  Monsignor  Dunn,  MaryknoU's  "Uncle  John," 
was  waiting,  and  his  faithful  secretary  had  come  also  to  offer 
the  assurance  of  good  will  and  prayers.  Monsignor  Dunn  had 
hoped  to  make  the  long  jump  with  me,  but  home  needs  were 
pressing  and  what  seemed  to  be  an  opportunity  that  might  have 
meant  much  for  the  cause  of  foreign  missions  passed. 

At  Scranton,  where  the  station  was  crowded  with  holiday 
excursionists,  we  found  the  Venard  Director  and  were  soon  under 
the  hospitable  roof  of  the  episcopal  residence.    What  His  Emi- 


♦  Later  the  Leviathan. 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

nence  Cardinal  Farley  has  been  to  Maryknoll,  the  American  Sem- 
inary for  Foreign  Missions,  that  Bishop  Hoban  has  been  to  its 
first  preparatory  school,  the  Venard.  His  house  has  been  a  home 
to  us  and  his  consecrated  hand  has  at  once  blessed  and  protected  us. 

I  stayed  at  Scranton  that  night,  so  as  to  leave  early  the 
next  morning  for  a  visit  to  Brother  T — ,  another  Maryknoller, 
who  was  "in  durance  vile"  taking  care  of  his  health — for  a 
change — in  a  Pennsylvania  sanatorium.  Later  Bishop  Hoban 
took  me  out  to  the  Venard,  and  the  day  was  so  perfect  that  he 
stayed  to  walk  about  the  place  and  to  discuss  with  our  young 
faculty  the  site  and  the  proposed  new  buildings.  The  Venard, 
you  know — or  do  you  know? — is  likely  to  outstrip  Maryknoll 
in  numbers. 

The  few  hours  at  the  Venard  were  all  too  short,  but  their 
close  was  a  memorable  one.  The  previous  evening,  in  the  chapel 
at  Maryknoll,  six  priests  had,  in  presence  of  the  veiled  Majesty 
of  their  Master,  publicly  expressed  their  Propositum — the  pur- 
pose to  remain  attached  for  life  to  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission 
Society  of  America.  And  now,  at  the  Venard,  three  more  were 
ready  to  do  likewise.  The  ceremony  took  place  after  night 
prayers  and  was  an  inspiration  to  those  privileged  to  share  in  it. 
Hardly  less  moving  were  the  recitation  of  the  Itinerarium,  the 
Church's  prayer  for  the  beginning  of  a  journey,  and  the  singing 
of  the  Hymn  of  Departure.  Salutations  followed,  and  our  once- 
respectable  closed  carriage  rattled  away  to  the  car-line,  which  was 
reached  just  in  the  nick  of  time. 

Westward. 

A  night  ride  to  Buffalo  brought  me  in  time  for  Mass  at  the 
old  Cathedral,  and  a  morning  stay  provided  a  good  opportunity 
to  talk  with  Bishop  Dougherty,*  whose  long  experience  in  the 
Far  East  has  left  him  enthusiastically  sympathetic  towards  the 
entrance  of  American  Catholics  into  the  field  of  missions  to  the 
heathen. 

Another  night  and  the  stockyards  of  Chicago  came  into 
view.  What  shall  I  say  of  Chicago?  So  far,  in  my  experience 
as  a  Maryknoller,  I  have  found  myself  a  stranger  in  a  strange 

*Now  Archbishop  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

land  when  there.  Friends  who  would  extend  a  welcome  hand 
are  usually  away  when  I  happen  along — but  I  found  kindness 
and  a  resting-place  at  the  Paulist  House,  spent  a  profitable 
afternoon  that  included  an  armful  of  typhoid  germs — the  third 
in  ten  days — and  took  an  evening  train  for  Des  Moines,  where 
one  of  Maryknoll's  earliest  and  closest  friends.  Bishop  Dowling, 
had  left  his  chapel  altar  ready  for  Mass.  It  was  Friday  and  the 
Mass  was,  as  usual  on  that  day,  for  all  our  benefactors — now  a 
growing  host. 

Ten  hours  at  Des  Moines  meant  a  day  of  recuperation. 
Early  that  evening  I  turned  into  a  train  berth  for  the  fourth 
consecutive  night,  satisfied  in  the  thought  that  while  I  was  going 
west  the  earth  is  round  and  I  might  consider  myself  already  on 
the  home  stretch.  This  reflection  came  especially  from  a  sug- 
gestion made  by  Bishop  Dougherty,  that  if  I  could  not  get  to 
Europe  by  the  Suez  Canal  it  might  be  quite  possible  to  find  a 
Spanish  steamer  at  Manila  that  would  take  me  around  Africa 
and  land  me  within  reaching  distance  of  Rome — a  very  desirable 
objective  for  my  purpose,  which  is  yet  to  be  unfolded. 

This  looks  a  little  as  if  I  were  in  the  position  of  the  man  who 
did  not  know  where  he  was  going  but  was  on  his  way.  In  these 
war-times  it  is  rather  difficult  to  say  where  one  is  going,  anyhow, 
and  I  may  venture  the  hope,  if  not  the  opinion,  that  these 
terrible  war-clouds  may  soon  be  scattered  by  the  Prince  of 
Peace.  In  the  meantime,  along  with  some  more  dignified  in- 
junctions, I  will  keep  in  mind  a  couple  of  familiar  phrases — 
Keep  moving  and  Watch  your  step. 

I  passed  in  sleep  out  of  Iowa,  and  dreamed  as  the  train  bound- 
ed through  Stuart,  the  home  of  a  MaryknoU  priest.  If  Casey -was 
called,  the  familiar  name  did  not  stir  me  into  consciousness. 
Even  Omaha,  a  city  that  I  should  have  liked  to  look  at,  failed  to 
wake  me. 

I  found  myself  the  next  morning  looking  from  a  train  window 
out  upon  prairie  land — no,  not  fairy-land — stretches  upon 
stretches  of  dried  grass,  stunted  cornfields  and  genuine  dirt, 
with  here  and  there  a  straggling  settlement  that  made  one 
marvel  how  people  could  be  induced  to  live  out  their  lives  there 
(if,  indeed,  they  do)  when  controlled  only  by  natural  impulses. 

5 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

But  who  knows?  Perhaps  under  some  of  those  wind  and 
dust  battered  roofs  there  is  a  content  sweeter  than  thousands 
find  in  the  most  attractive  surroundings.  If — and  it  seems  to 
be  true — the  more  we  get  the  more  we  want,  the  needs  of  these 
people  must  be  few,  as  they  evidently  have  Httle. 

A  few  names  caught  my  attention.  There  was  a  Bellaire 
that  recalled  to  me,  by  way  of  contrast,  the  hillock  on  which 
the  young  French  martyr,  Theophane  Venard,  discovered,  while 
yet  a  boy  of  nine  years,  his  vocation  to  the  apostolate  and  to  the 
supreme  sacrifice.  That  was  in  Kansas,  the  state  that  gave 
MaryknoU  her  latest  priest,  and  my  heart  warmed  to  the  place. 

There  was  one  place  on  that  long  prairie  stretch  towards 
Denver  that  left  a  particularly  strong  impression,  if  not  an  en- 
tirely alluring  one.  It  was  a  typical  struggling  settlement, 
made  up  of  half  a  hundred  shacks  more  or  less  intact.  On  its 
fringe  was  a  circus-tent  and  at  its  heart  a  H-0-T-E-L,  as  an- 
nounced in  great  letters  formed  at  any  convenient  point  on  the 
fagade  {sic).    The  name  of  this  haven  was  The  Oasis. 

Between  The  Oasis  and  the  railway  station  an  acre  of  land 
reveled  in  its  own  dust,  which  whirled  around  a  tethering  post 
in  the  center.  A  score  of  horses,  some  hitched  to  wagons,  others 
hampered  only  by  their  empty  saddles,  kicked  at  themselves 
occasionally  as  they  stood,  otherwise  patient,  under  a  hot  sun 
while  their  owners  visited  one  or  other  of  the  village  attractions 
before  saying  good-bye  to  the  proprietor  of  The  Oasis. 

There  was  a  thrilling  moment,  which  recalled  a  billboard 
picture  in  front  of  the  Ossining  "movie"  house,  and  that  was 
when  a  young  mounted  horseman  in  slouch  hat  and  high  boots 
suddenly  issued  from  the  Deer  Trail  Garage  (I  wondered  if  the 
animal's  tire  had  been  punctured),  made  a  few  spectacular 
circles,  and  shot  up  the  road  towards  the  circus  tent  in  a  cloud 
of  dust  that  was  sweeping  down  from  the  north  at  that  moment. 

The  dust  enveloped  everything  and  everybody  and  drove 
the  observers  back  into  the  train  from  which  we  had  been  glad 
enough  to  escape  for  a  few  moments. 

Before  Saturday  afternoon  had  far  advanced  the  incompara- 
ble Rockies  were  in  view.  The  day  was  not  clear  and  great 
fleecy  clouds  hung  low  on  the  horizon,  fitting  so  well  into  the 

6 


0  B  SERVATI  QMS   IN   THE    ORIENT 

jagged  outline  of  the  mighty  range  that  at  first  one  could  not 
distinguish  mountain  from  cloud. 

We  were  getting  into  Denver.  I  knew  it  as  my  eyes  dropped 
from  the  dream  clouds  upon  a  signboard  with  the  familiar 
words:  McPhee  and  McGinty.  For  a  moment  I  felt  as  if  I  were 
getting  into  Scranton  with  its  Hotel  Casey  signs,  but  I  soon 
realized  that  "those  Irish"  are  Catholic  enough  to  encircle  the 
earth,  and  I  expect  to  find  Irish  names  on  signboards  in  the  Orient. 

I  entered  Denver  a  stranger  and  none  whom  I  met  knew  of 
Maryknoll,  or  the  Venard,  or  The  Field  Afar,  or  our  blessed 
young  martyr,  Th^ophane.  My  stay  was  to  be  a  stretch  of 
but  seventeen  hours,  including  the  sleeping  period.  The  priests 
were  hard  at  work  in  the  confessionals,  but  kindness  radiated, 
however,  from  the  hospitable  rector  of  the  Cathedral — a  Scran- 
ton priest,  by  the  way — and  from  his  genial  assistants.  An 
opportunity  was  soon  found  to  interest  also  the  nearby  Sisters 
of  Charity,  and  when  I  left  the  sightly  and  progressive  capital 
of  Colorado  it  was  with  the  strong  hope  of  returning  for  a 
longer  stay. 

Short  as  my  visit  was,  a  possible  vocation  manifested  itself 
in  that  time.  The  protege  of  a  Denver  priest,  a  youth  who  has 
persistently  expressed  his  desire  to  be  a  foreign  missioner,  was 
given  a  momentary  interview  which  may  yet  be  chronicled  as 
the  providential  occasion  when  the  first  Colorado  MaryknoUer 
discovered  his  life-work.  On  such  little  things  do  great  purposes 
hang. 

Across  the  Rockies. 

I  left  the  capital  by  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railway, 
headed  for  Salt  Lake  City  and  San  Francisco,  which  I  shall  soon 
be  referring  to  as  "Frisco"  if  I  don't  meet  a  few  more  people 
from  "way  back  East." 

South  we  turned,  as  if  looking  for  a  passage  through  the 
mighty  snow-capped  range,  under  the  lee  of  which  I  had  slept 
one  comfortable  night  in  a  fixed  bed.  South  we  continued  for 
several  hours,  catching  a  glimpse  of  Pike's  Peak,  the  hoary  head 
that  rises  into  clouds,  and  halting  for  a  brief  interval  at  Colorado 
Springs.    No,  I  did  not  get  out  and  take  a  trip  on  the  Cog  Road 

7 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN   THE    ORIENT 

from  Manitou  to  the  top  of  Pike's  Peak.  That  Peak  has  an 
altitude  of  only  14,109  feet  and  the  sweep  of  view  is  hardly  two 
hundred  miles.  What  were  such  trifles  for  a  man  out  to  encircle 
the  world?  Besides,  I  was  trying  to  get  to  the  coast  where  a 
welcome  was  awaiting  me,  and  a  Japanese  boat,  also. 

After  running  south,  then,  more  than  a  hundred  miles,  we 
reached  Pueblo  and  swung  westward.  At  length  we  had  found 
an  entrance.  They  called  it  The  Royal  Gorge  and  the  name  fitted. 
On  a  couple  of  open  freight  cars,  liberally  supplied  with  seats 
at  "twenty-five  cents  per,"  we  went  through  the  Gorge,  following 
the  bank  of  the  Arkansas  River,  which  bears  the  dignified  title, 
"Mother  of  the  Gorge."  The  narrower  the  canyon  became  the 
higher  mounted  the  precipices  on  either  side,  until  at  its  center 
we  were  on  a  base  only  thirty  feet  wide  with  walls  rising  precipi- 
tously a  half-mile  above  us. 

A  little  girl  named  Ella  clapped  her  hands  in  glee  and  enter- 
tained the  party  with  remarks  more  or  less  pertinent,  until  her 
eye  caught  a  cinder — and  then  there  was  no  more  from  Cinder 
Ella.  A  candy-drummer  from  Denver,  a  cotton-raiser  from 
Tennessee,  and  an  electrician  from  Illinois  were  my  train  com- 
panions and  Cinderella's  removal  from  the  lecture  platform  gave 
an  opportunity  to  the  drummer  to  present  himself  as  a  sub- 
stitute. 

It  was  dusk  when  we  reached  the  little  town  of  Buena  Vista, 
which  the  drummer  described  as  a  nest  in  the  Great  Divide. 
Back  of  it  were  those  towering  mountains  named  Princeton, 
Yale,  and  Harvard — by  whom,  or  why,  I  do  not  know — perhaps 
to  symbolize  the  aspirations  of  American  students  for  the  high 
places  of  earth.  Certainly  significant  of  the  struggle  for  higher 
things,  however,  was  a  great  cross,  naturally  cut  at  almost  the 
top  of  a  mountain,  to  which  some  Christian  has  happily  given 
the  name,  "Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross." 

It  was  dark  when  we  whirled  by  the  River  of  Lost  Souls. 
May  it  always  be  so  with  us! 

The  next  morning  I  lifted  the  curtain  of  my  four-by-seven 
to  find  myself  in  the  heart  of  the  Rockies  and  in  full  view  of  a 
gorgeous  sunrise  which  I  could  not  describe  if  I  tried.  I  was  not 
the  only  one  awake.    A  spoiled  youngster,  who  called  every  man 

8 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

in  the  train  his  father  and  addressed  me  as  "Preacher"  without 
a  prefix,  had  risen  with  the  sun  and  was  running  up  and  down 
the  aisles  in  his  nightie  looking  for  a  companion.  He  finally 
landed  on  the  sleeping  drummer  and  the  car  began  to  feel  the 
thrill  of  life. 

I  managed  to  get  out  unobserved  and  to  find  a  quiet  un- 
occupied place  in  the  next  car.  There  could  be  no  Mass  that 
day  and  I  wondered  how  near  to  me  the  Divine  Sacrifice  was 
being  offered.  Then  I  began  to  realize  that  we  were  between 
one  and  two  miles  above  sea-level,  and  God  seemed  near  in  the 
vast  wilderness. 

The  earth  looked  parched.  Was  it  sand  or  rock?  I  could  not 
tell,  but  it  was  dotted  in  places  with  sage  brush.  The  mountains 
of  rock  were  nothing  short  of  fantastic,  with  here  and  there  the 
appearance  of  a  great  fortress,  a  castle,  or  a  cathedral  nave. 
It  was  as  if  a  giant  had  passed  through,  years  before,  with  knife  in 
hand,  carving,  cutting,  and  moulding  at  will,  as  a  small  boy 
would  hack  and  form  soft  clay,  leaving  it  to  harden  after  him. 

Occasionally  I  could  distinguish  near  the  track  a  highway 
marked  only  by  the  wheels  that  had  made  it,  and  strange  indeed 
was  the  sight  of  a  dust-covered  automobile  and  later  of  a  caravan 
that  brought  up  memories  of  pioneer  days  elsewhere. 

Salt  Lake  City  came  into  view  that  afternoon,  at  the  end 
of  a  long  stretch  of  level  country  that  had  just  been  drenched 
with  a  much-needed  rain.  I  had  planned  to  stop  over  in  this 
city,  where  I  knew  that  a  welcome  would  await  me  at  the  Marist 
Fathers,  whose  missionary  spirit  wherever  they  may  be  found 
is  strongly  Catholic;  but  like  many  another  from  way  back  East,  I 
had  forgotten  that  I  was  in  the  country  of  great  distances  and  so,  in 
my  calculations,  had  given  myself  one  day  longer  than  I  should. 

This  meant  that  all  I  could  see  of  Salt  Lake  City  was  a  very 
respectable  railway  station  and  some  streets  lined  with  small 
houses.  Of  the  great  Mormon  temple  I  saw  nothing,  and  of 
Mormons  themselves  I  saw  as  little  so  far  as  I  know.  A  young 
professor  bound  for  the  State  University  of  Washington  ex- 
pectantly watched  for  some  Mormon  elder  to  appear  with  a 
bevy  of  wives  at  his  heels,  but  he  only  showed  his  ignorance  of 
womankind. 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

What  occurred  to  me  in  reference  to  these  people  was  the 
spirit  of  propaganda  which  they  possess  and  which  in  recent 
years  has  often  been  called  to  my  attention.  I  believe  it  is 
quite  safe  to  say  that  there  is  rarely  a  passenger  boat  crossing 
the  Atlantic  with  immigrants  in  normal  times  that  does  not 
carry  one  or  more  Mormon  agents  making  known  the  "advan- 
tages" of  Mormonism  and  of  Utah. 

We  passed  quietly  out  of  the  city,  between  rows  of  poplar 
trees  which  for  some  distance  back  we  have  seen  in  plenty,  and 
on  towards  Ogden,  where  several  cars  were  hitched  to  our  train, 
which  later  disgorged  a  Catholic  pastor  and  a  pagan  Japanese, 
both  from  New  York.  The  pastor,  a  genial  soul,  was  bound  for 
Sacramento,  a  most  appropriate  destination;  the  Japanese  for 
Osaka.  I  spoke  with  the  priest  about  the  place  I  left  behind  me, 
and  with  the  Japanese  about  his  island  home  to  which  I  was 
going,  and  I  soon  found  out  that  he  would  be  one  of  my  fellow 
passengers  on  the  Tenyo  Maru.  I  made  it  my  business,  as  I 
intend  to  do  all  along  the  line,  to  disabuse  this  Japanese  of  the 
impression  that  the  Catholic  Church  is  practically  and  exclusively 
the  French  Church.  This  idea  has  so  strongly  clutched  the 
average  Japanese  that  a  stranger  arriving  in  Yokohama  or  Tokyo 
must,  if  he  would  find  a  Catholic  priest,  inquire  for  the  French 
Church.  It  is  a  fine  tribute  to  the  splendid  missionary  spirit  of 
French  Catholics,  but  it  is  a  pity,  none  the  less,  that  the  opening 
eyes  of  the  Far  East  do  not  yet  see  that  the  Church  which  every 
good  Frenchman  loves  as  his  very  life  is  the  one  Church  of 
Christ  that  appeals  to  all  nations.  Perhaps  some  day,  soon,  we 
hope,  American  priests  will  for  the  love  of  Christ  work  shoulder 
to  shoulder  with  their  French  brothers  in  Japan,  as  American 
laymen  are  doing  today  in  France  for  the  love  of  country. 

The  Great  Salt  Lake  came  into  view  as  we  left  Ogden,  and 
after  skirting  its  eastern  shore  for  a  while  we  swung  out  into  its 
very  centre,  on  a  bridge  of  broken  rock — the  tedious  work  of 
years — that  ran  for  miles  before  we  reached  the  western  shore. 

These  brackish  waters  hold  no  life  and  they  are  so  buoyant 
that  a  man  who  does  not  know  the  art  of  swimming  can  float 
along  in  sitting  posture,  calmly  smoking  his  pipe  and  reading  the 
daily  paper,  with  no  fear  of  losing  his  rest  or  his  breath.     At 

10 


THE   MORMON   TEMPLE   AT   SALT   LAKE   CITY 


THE   GREAT  SALT  LAKE 
"We  swung  out  into  its  very  center,  on  a  bridge  of  broken  rock."     {p.  lo.) 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN   THE   ORIENT 

least  so  a  San  Francisco  man  tells  me,  although  he  admits  that 
he  himself  has  never  tried  the  experiment. 

The  sun  fell  red  that  evening  and  the  crimson  twilight  over 
the  mountains  was  good  to  look  upon.  The  night  was  without 
event  and  we  woke  up  in  Nevada — prisoners  yet,  but  not  without 
hope,  because  San  Francisco  should  be  reached  that  night. 

Nevada — more  dusty  plains,  more  sage  brush  and  jagged 
peaks,  with  here  and  there  a  stretch  of  green,  a  town,  or,  at  least, 
a  railway  station  with  its  post-ofifice.  Necks  were  craned  and 
legs  were  stretched  as  the  train  stopped  at  Reno,  the  notorious 
divorce  colony  of  the  United  States,  a  blot  on  its  fair  face,  a 
breeder  of  parasites  that  are  eating  slowly  but  surely  into  the 
heart  of  the  American  family,  the  unit  on  which  the  nation 
that  is  to  endure  must  be  built.  An  old  lady  somewhere  between 
the  ages  of  seventy  and  ninety  left  the  train  at  this  station,  to 
the  great  disgust  of  the  young  professor  who  was  anxious  to 
make  his  story  interesting  for  the  folks  when  he  should  go 
back  home. 

Anybody  leaving  Reno  should  expect  to  go  higher;  and  that 
we  did,  climbing,  climbing  over  the  Sierra  Nevada  range,  en- 
circling Donner  Lake,  with  a  river  torrent  splashing  near  us 
and  tall  sturdy  evergreens  standing  as  sentinels,  until  we  reached 
the  summit,  three  thousand  feet. 

The  view  was  superb,  and  the  more  enjoyable  as  it  came  after 
a  tortuous  and  tantalizing  ride  along  the  clififs  and  under  great 
snow  shields  that  dazzled  the  eyes  and  allowed  only  an  occasion- 
al glimpse  of  the  scenery — truly  magnificent — outside  the 
obtrusive  palings. 

Nearing  the  Golden  Gate. 

Downward  we  plunged  towards  Sacramento,  and  as  our  train 
was  already  more  than  two  hours  late  my  hope  was  strong  that 
we  were  on  an  express  elevator.  But  no,  every  trim  little 
station  was  out  waiting  for  us  and  we  stopped  at  each  and  all. 
But  California  was  impressing  itself  on  us  every  moment,  grape- 
laden  bushes,  set  out  in  serried  ranks,  sharing  long  acres  with 
plum  and  peach  orchards  and  olive  trees,  and  here  and  there 
a  palm  spreading  its  graceful  branches  over  the  parched  ground. 

U 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

As  we  neared  Sacramento  I  bought  a  San  Francisco  paper 
and  my  eye  soon  caught  the  nam.e  of  the  priest  whom  I  hoped 
to  meet  in  a  few  hours.  He  was  the  object  of  an  interview  and 
the  subject  was:  Would  the  Coast  Guard  and  its  Chaplain  be 
called  to  Europe? 

The  response  was  characteristic  of  Father  McQuaide  (for 
it  was  he) : 

"You  can  bet  they'll  be  heard  from  when  they  get  the  word!" 

Just  after  a  stop  about  forty  miles  from  San  Francisco,  a 
United  States  Army  ofhcer  of  considerable  weight  bustled 
through  the  train.  I  was  chatting  with  a  St.  Louis  man  when 
suddenly  I  heard  the  porter  say,  "There  he  is!"  and  I  sensed 
the  fact  that  I  was  the  victim  wanted. 

My  embarrassment  was  only  momentary,  because  the  army 
officer  was  no  other  than  MaryknoU's  San  Francisco  friend, 
the  Rev.  Joseph  P.  McQuaide,  L.L.D.,  rector  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  Church,  Chaplain  of  the  Coast  Guard,  and  known  to  about 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  within  a  hundred  miles  or  more  of 
the  Golden  Gate. 

The  Chaplain  beamed,  and  everybody  and  everything  began 
to  beam.  The  porter  seemed  a  changed  man,  and  his  eyes 
danced  as  he  bowed  out.  The  youngster  who  had  already 
sized  up  every  passenger  several  times  came  over  to  try 
on  the  "Captain's"  hat.  He  looked  up  at  our  uni- 
formed friend  and  exclaimed  admiringly,  "Say,  you're  fat!" 
— and  his  grandmother  had  a  hard  time  getting  him  off  the 
train  at  Berkeley. 

We  alighted  at  Oakland  to  take  the  boat  across,  and  the 
ferry  captain  talked  with  Father  McQuaide  about  so  many 
things  that  I  almost  had  to  remind  him  that  the  passengers 
were  anxiously  awaiting  his  signal.  • 

Father  McQuaide's  orderly  was  waiting  at  the  San  Francisco 
pier  with  a  car,  and  presentations  continued  until  a  couple  of 
weary  eyelids  dropped  over  their  pupils  for  the  night.  In  the 
meantime  the  Chaplain  went  to  his  tent  at  the  Presidio. 

The  next  day  we  saw,  at  Menlo  Park,  the  diocesan  Seminary, 
where  for  several  years  Maryknoll  has  had  warm  friends  among 
both  priests  and  students.    Wherever  the  spirit  of  St.  Sulpice  is, 

12 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

there  may  be  found  a  keen  appreciation  of  foreign  missions, 
and  the  Seminary  at  Menlo  Park  is  no  exception. 

Shortly  after  dinner  we  left  for  Santa  Clara,  that  I  might  see 
the  new  Carmelite  convent,  talk  with  the  saintly  women  who 
reside  there,  some  of  whom  I  had  known,  and  be  assured  of 
their  prayers.  There  is  no  body  of  women  in  this  country,  I 
believe,  that  has  a  stronger  and  more  personal  interest  in  Mary- 
knoll  than  the  Carmelite  nuns,  wherever  they  may  be  found; 
and  it  was  with  the  home  feeling  that  I  looked  back  at  the  little 
Spanish  belfry,  as  we  rode  past  the  convent  after  a  brief  visit  to 
the  near-by  Jesuit  college  where  my  uniformed  companion  had 
made  his  studies. 

The  return  drive  to  San  Francisco  was  broken  with  a  call 
at  the  Sacred  Heart  convent,  and  another  short  stay  at  the 
Seminary  for  supper  followed  by  a  conference  to  the  preparatory 
students. 

The  evening  was  perfect,  the  roadbed  all  that  could  be 
desired,  the  sc-ent  of  the  eucalyptus  trees  inspiriting,  and  the  full 
orchards,  with  palm  leaves  waving  at  us,  were  a  delight  to  the 
eye.  But  the  joy  of  that  ride  was  the  constant  view  of  soft 
clouds  lying  motionless  along  the  mountains  under  God's 
California  blue — a  picture  on  which  I  hope  to  look  again. 

Maryknoll-in-San- Francisco. 

The  day  of  days  at  San  Francisco — in  all  there  were  only 
three — was  Thursday,  September  13,  for  which  date  was 
scheduled  no  less  important  an  event  than  the  opening  of  the 
third  establishment  of  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of 
America,  the  Maryknoll  Procure  of  San  Francisco. 

This  took  place  in  the  evening,  at  1911  Van  Ness  Avenue, 
where  a  house  for  Maryknoll  priests  had  been  leased  and  fur- 
nished. The  house,  which  had  been  "dolled  up"  by  the  Mary- 
knoll Auxiliary  so  that  it  looked  quite  respectable,  is  well 
situated,  with  an  outlook  on  the  Pacific,  an  assembly-room,  and 
accommodations  for  half  a  dozen  priests  and  Brothers.  Here 
Maryknoll  will  soon  have  one  of  its  priests,  and  from  this  centre 
a  knowledge  of  its  purpose  will  radiate  over  the  Pacific  Slope. 
Here,   too,   the  young  missioners  will  find  a  welcome  and  a 

13 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

haven    of    rest    after    passing    the    Rockies    on    their   way    to 
the  Far  East. 

The  gathering  that  night  was  a  modest  but  notable  one.  The 
genial  and  cultured  Archbishop  of  San  Francisco,  the  Most 
Reverend  Edward  J.  Hanna,  was  there  to  say  his  precious  word 
of  welcome  and  to  reveal  the  Christ-like  heart  that  is  his.  When 
later  I  thanked  His  Grace  I  was  quickly  told  that  there  was  no 
occasion  to  do  so  and  that  he  would  be  lacking  in  the  spirit  that 
should  animate  any  bishop  if  he  failed  to  take  advantage  of  such 
an  opportunity  to  further  the  Cause  of  Christ.  Archbishop 
Hanna  felt,  too,  that  the  reactive  influence  of  this  new  venture 
would  be  most  beneficial  to  all  concerned  in  it  and  to  his  arch- 
diocese; and  in  a  captivating  talk  he  made  known  his  sentimer  s, 
to  the  edification  of  all  who  listened  and  to  the  unconct 
delight  of  the  Captain. 

Father  Bradley,  of  the  Paulist  Fathers,  a  zealous  apos 
the  Chinese  of  San  Francisco,  was  there  that  evening  v, .  ..^ 
several  priests,  including  Father  Davrout,  S.  J.,  a  well-known 
missioner  of  China,  Father  Moore,  S.  J.,  of  the  Japanese  Mission, 
and  my  steamer  companion,  Father  Chabloz.  The  assembly- 
room  in  the  basement  was  crowded  to  the  door  with  an  interested 
body  of  the  laity.  Father  McQuaide  was  in  his  glory  as  of^cer 
of  the  day,  and  shone  as  toast-master  at  the  luncheon  whit  is 
bounty  had  provided. 

Everybody  felt  that  the  occasion  marked  the  quiet  entrance 
of  a  new  force  into  the  spiritual  life  of  the  Church  in  California 
and  that  as  such  it  was  an  historical  event  worthy  of  record. 

Leaving  San  Francisco. 

Saturday,  September  15,  was  our  sailing  date  and  shortly 
after  one,  on  schedule  time,  our  steamer,  the  Tenyo  Maru,  cut 
loose  from  her  dock. 

Some  friends  were  there  to  see  us  off  and  among  them  were 
Father  Davrout  and  Father  Breton,  both  former  missioners,  one 
a  Jesuit,  the  other  an  alumnus  of  the  Paris  Seminary  detailed 
for  work  among  the  Japanese  of  Los  Angeles.  Was  the  Chap- 
lain there?  Ask,  rather,  if  by  any  chance  he  missed  that 
opportunity  to  express  his  interest  in  Maryknoll.     Whatever 

14 


IN  THE   SEMINARY    GARDENS 


THE   SAN    FRANCISCO   DIOCESAN    SEiMlNARY   AT   MENLO   PARK 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

time  he  could  spare  from  the  barracks  in  those  few  days  be- 
longed to  MaryknoU's  representative.  We  had  together  passed 
the  evening  before  with  the  Archbishop,  and  on  the  morning  of 
departure  we  visited  again  the  Procure,  caUing  also  at  the  first 
San  Francisco  home  of  the  Carmelites,  a  quaint  and  interesting 
house,  quite  monastic  in  appearance  and  once  occupied  by 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

The  Chaplain,  then,  was  at  the  dock,  ready  as  usual  to  do 
services  for  any  and  all.  My  boat  companion,  Father  Chabloz, 
came  a  little  late.  He  was  evidently  anxious  about  his  baggage, 
but  Father  McQuaide  "started"  things  and  in  a  few  moments 
Father  Chabloz  was  wearing  his  customary  sweet  smile,  a  com- 
bination of  French  dimples  and  an  Italian  sun.  For  you  should 
know  that  Father  Chabloz  was  born  in  France,  spent  most  of 
his  life  in  Italy,  and  belongs  to  the  Turin  Province  of  the  Society 
of  Jesus. 

There  was  a  pretty  little  ceremony  of  departure  of  which 
we  were  spectators.  Scores  of  passengers  lining  the  upper 
deck  held  in  their  hands  ribbons  of  colored  paper,  each  of  which 
had  been  caught  at  the  other  end  by  some  one  standing  on  the 
dock.  The  distance  was  too  great  for  ordinary  conversation,  but 
every  ribbon  served  as  a  silent  wire  to  carry  unspoken  messages 
from  friend  to  friend.  When  the  great  ship  swung  away  the 
ribbons  snapped,  one  after  another. 

As  we  glided  beyond  the  end  of  the  pier  we  saw  our  little 
group  of  friends,  with  the  Chaplain,  serious  of  countenance, 
cap  in  hand.  Good-bye,  San  Francisco!  You  have  welcomed 
a  stranger  and  he  is  grateful.    May  we  meet  again! 

Out  into  the  bay  a  little  tug  pulled  us,  and  there  left  the 
Tenyo  Maru  to  her  own  devices.  We  were  delayed  an  hour  by  a 
special  inspection  order  from  Washington  (these  are  war-times) , 
but  at  length,  with  countless  sea-gulls  at  our  heels,  we  moved 
along.  As  we  passed  the  Presidio,  San  Francisco's  great  encamp- 
ment, I  looked  for  the  Chaplain,  who  had  planned  to  signal  us, 
but  I  could  not  distinguish  him;  and  in  a  few  more  moments 
we  had  steamed  out  through  the  Golden  Gate  and  were  riding 
good -sized  waves  on  the  Pacific. 


15 


OBS  ERVAT I ONS   IN   THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  II 

ON    THE    PACIFIC 

UITE  likely  your  little  Johnny  would  call  the 
Tenyo  Maru  "some  steamer."  It  is  registered 
as  of  22,000  tons  and  is  decidedly  ample  in  all 
its  parts.  This  is  the  more  surprising  since  it 
belongs  to  a  Japanese  company  and  is  patron- 
ized by  many  of  the  small  people  of  the  Orient. 
But  then,  there  are  large  Orientals,  too;  and 
besides,  some  say  that  the  average  "little  Jap"  feels  bigger  than 
he  looks. 

All  ocean-liners  have,  as  a  matter  of  course,  many  points  of 
resemblance,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  name  and  the  Japanese 
flag  and  symbols  one  might  easily  imagine  that  he  was  sailing 
across  the  Atlantic.  There  is,  however,  in  the  atmosphere 
a  decided  difference  created  by  the  employees  of  the  boat. 
Practically  all  of  these,  officers,  deck-stewards,  cabin-stewards,  and 
seamen,  are  Orientals.  The  waiters  in  the  dining-room  are  divided 
between  the  two  races,  Japanese  and  Chinese,  each  "shinnying 
on  his  own  side,"  and  we  were  assigned  to  that  of  the  Chinese. 
Our  "boy's"  name  is  pronounced  like  tack,  but  there  is 
nothing  in  him  to  suggest  either  a  hard  cracker  or  the  pointed 
instrument  of  torture  that  needs  the  blow  of  a  hammer  on  its 
head.  We  will  write  him  up  as  plain  Tak — and  he  is  worthy  of 
mention.  Tak  was  born  of  poor  but  Chinese  parents,  somewhere 
near  Canton,  that  portion  of  the  Chinese  Republic  that  contrib- 
utes to  the  United  States  most  of  its  laundrymen.  Tak  looks 
young  but  he  assures  us — and  his  countenance  compels  belief — 
that  he  is  twenty-four  years  old.  At  breakfast  he  appears  in  a 
neatly-laundered  dark  blue  affair,  that  hangs  well  below  his 
knees  and  has  long  slits  on  either  side.  If  it  were  not  for  a  stand- 
ing collar  and  the  fact  that  the  garment  fits  the  body  rather 
closely  I  should  boldly  say  that  Tak  and  his  fellow-waiters  serve 
us  in  night-gowns.  At  noon  the  shade  of  blue  grows  lighter, 
and  at  the  evening  meal  Tak  is  in  immaculate  white,  as  are  all 
the  others  except  the  headwaiter,  who  retains  the  blue.  We  like 
Tak  and  we  may  see  more  of  him  later. 

16 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Our  table  seemed  to  be  quite  empty  the  first  couple  of  days, 
but  gradually  there  came  up  from  the  sea  or  out  of  the  prison 
cabins  a  little  company  that  is,  to  say  the  least,  cosmopolitan. 
There  are  five  of  us,  representing  China,  Italy,  Spain,  France, 
and  the  United  States. 

The  Chinese  is  an  American-trained  physician,  a  graduate 
of  Harvard  Medical  School  and  for  one  year  engaged  at  a  large 
hospital  in  Boston.  He  is  intelligent,  bright  of  manner  yet 
dignified,  and  knows  English  well.  When  he  learned  that  my 
companion  and  I  are  Catholic  priests  he  made  known  his  own 
affiliations.  He  is  an  Episcopalian,  although  he  had  often 
attended  services  in  the  Mission  Church  of  Roxbury,  near  which 
he  roomed  when  in  Boston.  (The  Mission  Church,  I  may  say 
for  the  benefit  of  the  uninitiated,  is  the  very  popular  church  of 
the  Redemptorist  Fathers.) 

The  Spaniard  hails  from  Barcelona  and  is  on  his  way  to 
pick  up  a  little  inheritance  of  four  or  five  million  pesos  which  a 
thoughtful  uncle  had  been  dying  to  leave  him.  France  and  Italy 
are  represented  by  my  companion,  and  the  United  States  by 
a  real  good  young  man  and  myself.  The  young  man  came  from 
Illinois,  so  far  as  he  can  remember,  and  is  the  son  of  a  Protes- 
tant minister.  He  himself  has  an  ambition  to  convert  the 
heathen  and  is  to  spend  a  year  between  China  and  Japan  so  as 
to  determine  in  which  country  his  services  are  most  needed. 

Days  at  sea  are  quite  like  one  another  if  the  weather  happens 
to  be  good.  In  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  our  little  cabin 
becomes  a  chapel,  and  the  Master  bides  with  us  awhile — during 
the  period  of  two  Masses,  at  one  of  which  our  young  Spanish 
friend  assists.  At  eight-thirty — it  seems  a  long  wait  for  early 
birds — we  gather  for  breakfast;  and  the  Lord  knows  how  we 
pass  the  remainder  of  the  day.  Reading,  writing,  sitting,  napping, 
eating,  occasional  conversations,  and  day-dreaming  seem  to  fill 
out  the  measure  of  hours  until  we  turn  into  the  bunks  at  about 
nine  o'clock  and  forget  that  we  are  riding  a  plank  on  the  vast 
deep. 

There  is  exercise  to  be  taken*  the  most  ordinary  form  being 
the  deck  promenade,  which  has  the  double  advantage  of  giving 
recreation  not  only  to  yourself  but  also  to  the  passengers  who 

17 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

watch  your  ambling.  When  the  mothers  are  not  looking  I  get 
extra  compensation  on  the  walks  by  exchanging  winks  with  the 
babies,  especially  if  they  are  Orientals. 

The  blue  of  the  Pacific  is  deep  and  beautiful,  increasingly 
so  as  we  dip  toward  the  tropic  of  Capricorn,  and  the  ocean  is 
restful  to  look  upon — if  it  is  behaving  itself. 

On  Deck. 

When  the  occasion  offered  I  have  talked  with  Orientals  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  discovering  if  they  have  caught  the  idea 
that  the  Catholic  Church  is  the  Church  of  the  world — that  its 
head  is  the  Holy  Father — that  its  members  can  be  found  in  all 
countries  and  that  its  strength  in  the  United  States  is  consider- 
able; and  I  am  convinced  that  the  average  Chinese  or  Japanese 
resident  in  the  United  States  has  yet  to  learn  just  where  the 
Catholic  Church  stands  in  relation  to  the  several  denominations 
of  Protestantism.  Doubtless  there  are  not  a  few  American 
Catholics  who,  as  students  or  business  men,  come  in  contact 
with  friends  from  across  the  Pacific  and  some  inquiries  followed 
by  a  statement  of  fact  would,  I  believe,  do  much  towards  setting 
right  some  wrong  impressions. 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  met  on  deck  the  young  Chinese 
physician  who  sits  at  our  table,  and  I  encouraged  him  to  open 
up.  He  is  a  native  of  Ningpo,  received  his  preparatory  training 
at  a  mission  college  (Protestant),  attended  the  Harvard  Medical 
School  in  China,  and  took  a  post-graduate  course  in  the  United 
States,  to  which  country,  after  teaching  two  years,  he  proposes 
to  return  for  further  study. 

I  put  a  few  questions  to  him,  with  some  interesting  results. 
Personally  he  had  not  met  Catholic  priests.  He  was  under  the 
impression  that  there  are  in  China  more  Catholics  than  Prot- 
estants and  was  surprised  to  learn  that  the  ratio  is  about  ten 
Catholics  to  one  Protestant.  He  had  remarked  the  absence  of 
American  priests  from  the  mission  fields,  but  had  attributed  it 
to  indifference  rather  than  to  the  burdens  laid  on  them  by  the 
influx  of  immigrants. 

When  he  learned  of  my  mission  the  doctor  seemed  earnestly 
interested  and  anxious  to  suggest.  -.  I  note  here  what  he  said 

M8' 


OBSERVAT I  QMS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  it  may  be  taken  for  what  it  is  worth.  Perhaps  it  carries  a 
warning  worth  while. 

According  to  his  statement,  the  Cathohc  priest  in  China 
"mixes  too  much  with  poHtics."  This  statement  was  speedily 
modified,  until  it  reached  substantially  the  charge  that  Catholic 
priests  had  at  times  incurred  the  hostility  of  the  pagans  by  seek- 
ing persistently  for  their  flocks  as  well  as  for  themselves  the 
protection  and  punitive  power  of  their  own  governments. 
He  added  that  undoubtedly  the  Chinese  converts  were  largely 
to  blame,  because  the  consciousness  of  the  foreign  protection 
made  them  bold,  thus  antagonizing  the  more  their  fellow- 
countrymen  who  were  without  that  protection. 

I  did  not  feel  that  I  could  just  then  dispute  his  statements, 
but  I  reminded  the  doctor  thafthe  Catholic  priest  would  natural- 
ly depend  less  than  the  Protestant  missionary  upon  the  protec- 
tion of  his  government,  since  the  former  is  alone,  without  a 
family,  and  living  in  China  with  the  idea  of  making  it  his  home 
for  life.  Perhaps  a  general  charge  had  been  made  from  a  few 
examples.  In  any  event,  I  appreciated  the  doctor's  candor  and 
would  get  the  other  side  before  forming  a  judgment. 

The  conversation  then  turned  to  the  relations  between 
Catholic  and  Protestant  missionaries  in  China,  and  the  doctor 
maintained  that  the  Catholic  priest  holds  himself  absolutely 
aloof  from  his  Protestant  neighbor.  He  felt  that  there  was  some 
common  ground  on  which  both  could  stand  and  work  together. 

I  told  him  that  I  knew  of  friendships  existing  between  the 
two  classes  but  I  explained  to  him  the  special  difficulty  for  a 
European,  especially  for  one  of  the  Latin  nationalities,  because 
Protestantism  has  hardly  a  foothold  in  Latin  countries  and  is 
too  often  represented  there  by  unprincipled  or  ignorant  prosely- 
ters  whose  ill-concealed  aim  is  to  belittle  the  Catholic  Church. 
In  the  United  States,  as  I  explained,  Catholic  priests  and  Prot- 
estant ministers  often  meet  together  for  some  common  good, 
as,  for  example,  the  cause  of  temperance  or  the  suppression  of 
immoral  enterprises. 

I  pointed  out,  however,  the  radical  doctrinal  differences 
between  the  Catholic  Church  and  all  Christian  denominations, 
and  I  expressed  regret  that  the  Far  East  could  not  be  taught  the 

19 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


truth  of  Christ  by  an  undivided  following.  The  young  man 
seemed  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  Jesus  Christ  woul(3[  naturally 
have  founded  a  Society — a  visible  body  with  a  visible  head — 
which  must  be  somewhere  even  now. 

There  is  one  group  of  pretty  little  live  Japanese  dolls  on 
board,  and  I  have  Jiad  a  talk  with  their  father.  He  is  by  no 
means  wealthy,  but,  like  every  other  Japanese  ocean  traveler, 
intelligent  and  aspiring.  His  babies  were  born  in  San  Francisco 
and  he  is  taking  them  back  to  Japan  for  their  education — 
doubtless,  also,  to  get  them  saturated  in  the  full  strength  of 
Japanese  patriotism — a  dense  solution. 

My  opening  came  when  he  asked  where  I  was  going.  When  I 
reached  the  end  of  the  Asiatic  rope  I  said  that  I  should  try 
then  to  get  to  Europe  and  see  the  Pope  at  Rome.  His  eyes 
sparkled  and  he  asked,  "Are  you  an  American?" 

I  nodded  assent  and  in  turn  inquired  if  he  had  seen  French 
priests  in  Japan.  He  had,  of  course.  "Well,"  I  went  on,  "I 
am  on  my  way  to  visit  them.  They  belong  to  my  Church,  and 
we  are  all  under  the  great  head  at  Rome.  It  happens,"  I  added, 
"that  most  of  the  priests  in  Japan  come  from  France,  but  the 
great  Church  of  Christ  may  be  found  everywhere."  Did  he 
know  that  in  the  United  States,  where  he  had  been  for  several 
years,  there  are  seventeen  million  and  more  Catholics? 

Just  as  I  asked  the  question  two  of  the  children  demanded 
his  immediate  attention,  but  as  soon  as  he  returned  to  the  steamer 
rail  by  which  we  had  been  standing  he  asked  in  surprise,  "Do  you 
really  mean  to  say  that  there  are  so  many  Catholics  in  the  United 
States?"  It  was  evidently  a  revelation  to  the  man,  as  it  is  to  so 
many  Orientals,  to  learn  the  full  strength  of  the  Catholic  body. 

I  am  beginning  to  think  that  everyone  on  board  this  liner 
has  something  to  do  with  foreign  missions.  Father  Chabloz 
was  approached  this  morning  by  a  stranger  who  did  not  mention 
his  occupation  and  could  easily  be  taken  for  a  business  or  pro- 
fessional man.  I  ran  into  the  gentleman  that  afternoon  and 
found  him  gracious.  After  fifteen  minutes  I  discovered  that  he 
is  a  Congregational  minister  working  in  or  near  Canton.  He 
had  spotted  some  Chinese  characters  on  a  report  which  I  carried 
in    my    hand,  and  when  I    learned    his    occupation    I    opened 

20 


OBSERVAT I  QMS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

the   document,    which    was    really    impressive    in    both    size 
and  contents. 

It  was  a  chart  of  Catholic  Missions  in  China,  published  by 
the  Lazarist  Printing  Press  at  Peking  in  1915.  It  gave  the  name 
of  every  diocese  (vicariate,  to  be  more  exact),  fifty-one  in  all. 
It  gave  also,  for  each,  the  entire  population,  the  number  of 
Catholics,  the  year's  increase,  the  proportion  of  Catholics,  the 
number  of  priests,  seminarians,  and  churches  or  chapels.  The 
minister  was  interested,  but — perhaps  through  a  sense  of  delicacy 
— did  not  look  at  the  chart  too  closely.  I  read  for  him,  however, 
the  totals  for  the  year: 

Catholics  in  China 1,729,323 

Increase  in  one  year 100,969 

Priests — European 1,430 

Priests — Native 575 

Preparatory  Students 1 ,887 

Churches  and  Chapels 8,618 

and  he  expressed  his  admiration  at  the  results. 

Just  as  I  was  about  to  fold  the  sheet — it  was  two  feet  square 
— I  noticed  a  single  line  on  the  bottom  of  the  page : 

Protestant  Missions  in  China 
and  I  read  aloud : 

Societies 93 

Missionaries — American  and  European 5,419 

Missionaries — Native 17,879 

Number  of  Stations 4,064 

Total  Number  of  Protestants 235,303 

I  asked  if  this  was  about  right  and  from  what  sources  my 
Lazarist  confreres  at  Peking  had  taken  the  figures,  but  the 
minister  confessed  that  he  did  not  know  the  statistics,  and  we 
separated,  to  meet  again. 

The  Paradise  of  the  Pacific. 

Honolulu — We  woke  up  yesterday  morning  to  find  ourselves 
at  anchor  and  within  sight  of  the  garden  city  of  the  Pacific.  I 
had  visions  of  colored  post-cards  that  I  had  often  seen,  idealized 
pictures  of  places  and  people  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  and  I 
was  now  prepared  to  be  disillusioned. 

21 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN   THE    ORIENT 

At  about  eight  o'clock  all  the  passengers  of  the  Tenyo  Maru 
were  lined  up  on  the  deck,  like  so  many  Chinese  bandits  about 
to  be  shot,  and  after  a  medical  examination  that  consisted,  so 
far  as  I  could  observe,  in  a  simple  count,  our  boat  crept  up  to 
the  dock. 

Some  passengers  were  so  fortunate  as  to  have  friends  awaiting 
their  arrival  at  Honolulu,  and  we  were  among  these.  Ours 
were  not  friends  of  old ;  we  had  in  fact  never  met  them  but  the 
mutual  recognition  was  immediate,  and  in  a  few  moments  we 
were  enjoying  to  the  full  fresh  experiences  under  the  most 
reliable  of  guides. 

This  is  no  hotel  folder,  nor  is  it  a  promotion  circular,  but  I 
would  register  in  passing  that  Honolulu  is  certainly  something 
of  an  earthly  paradise  as  we  picture  such  places.  Our  stay  was 
for  one  brief  day,  with  the  unusual  at  every  turn,  and  the  pic- 
tures moved  too  rapidly  to  be  recorded.  As  we  passed  along  the 
streets,  my  first  impression  was  that  we  must  have  already 
arrived  in  the  Orient.  Scores  of  Chinese  and  Japanese,  dressed 
as  in  their  native  lands,  went  by  us.  Japanese  mothers  carried 
babes  on  their  backs  and  Chinese  women,  wearing  the  panta- 
loons, were  as  unconcerned  as  they  were  unobserved  except  by 
such  strangers  as  ourselves. 

We  drove  at  once  to  the  Mission,  the  heart  of  splendid 
Catholic  activities  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands. 

The  church  is  a  solid  old  structure  built  of  coral.  Inside  it 
gave  evidence  of  use,  and  we  knew  that  the  spirit  of  faith  filled  it. 
It  was  good  to  feel  again  the  presence  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament. 
There  were  three  devotees,  all  men,  on  their  knees  when  I 
entered,  and  I  remarked  that  two  were  Chinese. 

The  house  of  the  Fathers  is  at  the  rear  of  the  church,  and 
seems  to  be  open  not  only  to  the  balmy  air  of  these  islands  but 
to  anybody  and  everybody  who  takes  a  notion  to  drop  in.  The 
veranda  is  wide  and  the  general  reception  room,  though  not  by 
any  means  elegant,  is,  as  it  should  be,  free  from  all  appearance 
of  formality. 

The  priests  in  charge  of  the  islands  are  the  Missioners  of  the 
Sacred  Heart  (Picpus  Fathers),  the  same  congregation  that  gave 
Father  Damien  to  the  lepers  of  Molokai  and,  through  Robert 

22 


A  JAPANESE   LINER   ON   THE   PACIFIC 


THE   ROYAL   PALMS   OF   HONOLULU 


OBSERVATI QMS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Louis  Stevenson,  to  a  world  of  readers  who  might  never  have 
heard  of  him  otherwise. 

How  Father  Damien  would  have  smiled  to  find  himself  so 
lone  a  hero  as  the  non-Catholic  world  has  with  good  will  made 
him!  Or  would  he  have  smiled?  Perhaps  he  would  have  been 
deeply  humiliated  at  the  thought  that  scores  and  hundreds  of 
other  Catholic  missioners  of  his  day  and  generation  who  de- 
served as  much  applause  for  heroic  work  remained  unknown. 
The  spirit  of  Father  Damien  was  no  exception  to  that  of  the 
ordinary  Catholic  missioner,  and  doubtless  no  one  realized  this 
more  than  Father  Damien  himself. 

The  lepers  of  Molokai  are  today  under  the  spiritual  direction 
of  another  Missioner  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  who  is  assisted  by 
some  Brothers  and  Franciscan  nuns.  The  Fathers  in  Honolulu 
also  attend  several  churches. 

We  arranged  to  meet  the  community  later  at  dinner,  and 
resumed  our  drive,  going  at  once  to  visit  St.  Louis  College, 
which  is  directed  by  the  Brothers  of  Mary  from  Dayton,  Ohio. 

The  Superior  brought  us  through  the  class-rooms — no 
small  undertaking,  since  there  are  here  fully  nine  hundred 
students,  white,  brown,  and  yellow,  progeny  of  the  United 
States,  Europe,  China,  Japan,  and  the  Islands,  with  Chinese 
evidently  in  the  majority.  This  is  the  melting-pot  of  the  races 
and  the  boys  of  Honolulu  mingle  so  unaffectedly  with  one  another 
that  lines  sharp  and  cutting  elsewhere  are  here  obliterated. 

Several  Brothers  at  St.  Louis  College  had  been  in  touch  with 
MaryknoU  and  had  communicated  their  interest  to  their  re- 
spective pupils.  The  desire  was  expressed  that  some  day  St. 
Louis  College  would  have  a  representative  at  MaryknoU. 

The  College  is  quite  in  the  centre  of  Honolulu  and  occupies 
a  considerable  area.  Palm  and  banyan  trees  give  to  the  grounds 
a  most  attractive  setting,  here  as  elsewhere  in  and  around  this 
tropical  city. 

From  the  College  we  went  directly  to  see  a  venerable  nun, 
long  interested  in  MaryknoU,  who  lives  some  two  miles  from  the 
city  on  a  hillside  overlooking  the  bay.  I  was  not  prepared  for 
this  visit  and  did  not  realize  until  we  arrived  at  the  house  the 
unusual  character  of  the  work  in  which  Sister  Bonaventure  with 

23 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

a  few  other  nuns  is  engaged.  It  is  the  training  of  children 
born  of  leprous  parents  at  Molokai.  These  children  are  taken 
when  very  young  and  brought  to  Honolulu.  The  Government 
gives  the  girls  into  the  care  of  the  Sisters,  who  mother  the 
little  ones,  teaching  them  various  occupations  until  they  reach 
young  womanhood,  when  they  leave  their  convent  home  either  to 
marry  at  once  or  to  enter  domestic  service  and  run  the  chance  of 
marrying  later.  Leprosy,  strange  to  say,  rarely  develops  in 
these  children  of  afflicted  parents 

We  reached  the  Mission  in  time  for  lunch  and  met  a  group 
of  keen,  active,  and  hospitable  priests.  All  of  them  could  speak 
French  with  my  companion,  and  there  was  no  one  of  them  who 
did  not  speak  English  quite  fluently,  though  with  a  foreign  accent. 
Germany,  Holland,  Belgium — these  were,  so  far  as  I  knew,  the 
countries  represented  in  that  house,  but  the  spirit  of  Christ 
is  stronger  than  that  of  nationality,  and  all  work  together, 
even  in  these  troubled  days,  for  the  glory  of  God. 

Our  chauffeur — rather,  chauffeure^^ — called  shortly  after 
lunch  and  two  of  the  Mission  priests  joined  us  in  a  drive  to  the 
Pali.  Now  the  Pali  meant  no  more  to  us  when  we  started  out 
to  see  it  than  it  means  just  now  to  you,  dear  reader,  unless  you 
are  familiar  with  Honolulu,  but  we  soon  found  ourselves  on  a 
delightful  road  to  somewhere  and  the  destination  was  obscured 
in  the  joys  of  passage. 

Avenues  of  royal  palm.s  led  into  some  of  the  residences  we 
passed,  and  the  road  itself  was  lined  with  monkey-pod  and 
banyan  trees,  with  hibiscus  in  a  hundred  varieties,  with  night- 
blooming  cereus,  and  other  species  of  fruit  and  flower  so  numerous 
that  a  botanist  would  grow  bewildered  or  crazy  at  first  sight  of 
them. 

More  interesting  yet  were  the  groups  of  school  children  that 
we  met  occasionally  along  the  road.  They  were  happy  and 
bright,  as  all  children  should  be,  but  the  distinguishing  feature 
of  these  island  children  is  their  love  of  flowers.  Garlands  of 
blossoms  hung  around  their  necks,  other  flowers  decorated  their 
hat  bands,  and  the  little  hands  carried  more  of  the  precious 
gifts  of  God.  Many  of  them  gave  gleeful  exclamations  as  they 
recognized  the  Fathers  of  the  Mission.  The  groups,  like  the  classes 

24 


OBSERVAT I  QMS   IN   THE    ORIENT 

at  St.  Louis  College,  were  made  up  of  Hawaiian,  Chinese,  and 
graded  Whites. 

We  were  gradually  mounting  along  a  tortuous  road  when 
suddenly  a  cold  wind  struck  us  and  the  warning  came,  not  a 
moment  too  soon,  "Look  out  for  your  hats!" 

We  were  at  the  Pali — a  great  cliff — and  in  view  of  a  pano- 
rama that  it  would  be  hard  to  surpass.  Sheer  precipices  with 
jagged  peaks,  at  the  base  of  which  were  acres  on  acres  of  pine- 
apples, stretched  out  towards  the  city,  and,  in  the  distance,  six 
miles  away,  Honolulu  itself  fringed  the  waters  of  the  bay. 
We  stood  delighted  until  the  wind  drove  us  to  shelter  against 
a  great  rock,  and  I  was  thankful  to  be  somewhat  weighty  with 
age,  because  the  rush  of  air  through  the  Pali  gap  has  no  con- 
sideration for  those  who  are  light  of  body. 

On  the  way  back  we  were  introduced  to  alligator  pears, 
picked  a  few  papayas,  saw  the  interior  of  a  charming  Honolulu 
home,  visited  a  convent  school  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  and  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  local  pastime — riding  the  waves.  We  observed 
many  attractive  buildings  but  none  more  interesting  than  a  little 
Catholic  church  under  the  direction  of  the  Mission.  It  had 
found  its  place,  retired  from  the  main  highway  that  skirts 
the  harbor,  and  was  approached  by  a  colonnade  of  palms. 
It  nestled  among  the  surrounding  trees  as  if  it  had  always  been 
there  and  the  trees  themselves  seemed  proud  as  of  their  own 
offspring.  Nothing  could  give  us  clearer  proof  that  Honolulu 
has  a  favorable  climate,  because  here  was  an  all-the-year-round 
church  with  open  lattice  work  in  place  of  windows,  exposing 
the  interior  finish  of  pews  and  wainscottings  to  the  elements 
that  must  certainly  be  kind. 

Our  boat  was  scheduled  to  sail  at  six  o'clock,  and  with  reluc- 
tance we  said  good-bye  to  friends,  returning  to  the  floating 
boarding-house  only  to  find  that  we  should  not  leave  until  the 
following  morning  at  seven  o'clock.  We  were  tempted  to  taste 
again  the  sweets  of  Honolulu  hospitality  but  the  farewells  had 
been  said  and  we  decided  that  it  would  be  best  to  wait  until 
the  next  trip.  This  does  not  promise  much  for  my  companion 
who  is  strongly  of  the  opinion  that  he  will  remain  in  Chinkahee 

25 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE   ORIENT 

for  the  remainder  of  his  Hfe,  a  long  period  according  to  present 
indications. 

So  we  listened  for  a  while  to  the  music  of  the  ukuleles  on  the 
boat  deck  until  it  became  monotonous,  and  then  after  beads  we 
turned  in  for  a  much  desired  rest.  Shortly  after  the  scheduled 
hour  we  steamed  slowly  out  into  the  harbor,  and  as  I  looked  over 
in  the  direction  of  Molokai  it  was  with  regret  that,  while  so  near, 
I  could  not  have  viewed  the  scene  of  Father  Damien's  labors 
and  of  his  apostolic  death. 

More  Steamer  Acquaintances. 

I  met  a  keen  Japanese  last  evening.  Together  we  were 
leaning  over  the  rail  watching  the  spray,  and  an  unexpected 
wave  showered  us  into  talking.  His  English  was  so  much  more 
perfect  than  my  Japanese  that  there  was  no  choice  of  languages. 
He  had  lived  several  years  in  the  United  States  and  had  observed 
much.  His  questions  were  direct  and  earnest,  following  the 
discovery  that  I  am  a  Catholic  priest.  He  knew  the  great 
metropolis  of  New  York  and  had  often  visited  the  Cathedral, 
which  he  admired  much.  He  realized  that  there  are  in  America 
great  men  who  belong  to  the  Church — Cardinals,  Archbishops, 
Bishops  and  noted  priests — and  that  all  are  under  the  Pope  at 
Rome. 

"Is  the  Pope  an  American?"  he  asked. 

"Why  not? 

"Can  an  Irishman  be  Pope? 

"Has  the  United  States  Government  a  representative  from 
the  Holy  Father? 

"Why  don't  we  see  American  priests  in  the  Orient? 

"Why  have  not  some  gone  to  Japan?" 

These  were  some  of  the  questions  asked,  and  on  that  of 
papal  representatives  at  the  courts  of  the  world  he  expressed 
very  clearly  his  conviction  that,  as  the  Pope  has  children  in  all 
countries  and  is  a  spiritual  father,  he  should  be  properly  rep- 
resented everywhere  and  his  priests  should  be  listened  to  with 
great  reverence. 

I  was  bold  enough  to  tell  him  in  answer  to  his  questions  about 
American  priests  going  to  Japan  that  we  had  very  little  hope  of 

26 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

impressing  the  Japanese  at  present,  because  they  are  too  much 
preoccupied  with  material  advancement  to  raise  their  thoughts 
to  spiritual  things.  He  smiled  and  admitted  the  truth  of  the 
statement. 

As  he  had  recalled  the  early  persecution  of  Japanese  Chris- 
tians, I  repeated  the  story  of  their  perseverance,  without  priest 
or  altar,  in  the  faith  of  their  forefathers,  and  added  my  belief 
that  people  who  could  show  such  steadfastness  of  purpose  must 
be  worth  while,  and  I  expressed  the  hope  that  some  day,  and 
soon,  Japan,  less  absorbed  in  her  attempt  to  be  materially  great, 
would  examine  seriously  and  for  her  own  good  the  revealed 
truth  of  Christ. 

Before  parting,  the  young  man  told  me  that  he  himself 
is  a  Presbyterian. 

Father  Chabloz  and  I  have,  besides  the  distinction  of  being  the 
only  priests,  a  further  distinction  of  being  among  the  few  passengers 
who  have  not  already  crossed  the  Pacific  from  two  to  twenty  times. 

Not  all  on  board  except  the  Orientals  are  missionaries,  as  I 
first  thought,  although  the  number  of  preachers  and  teachers  is 
considerable — twenty-five,  I  am  told.  There  are  several  business 
men,  and  some  women,  with  or  without  children,  going  to  join 
their  husbands.  I  catch  occasional  conversations  from  these 
travelers,  who  do  not  hesitate  to  ventilate  their  opinions  on 
all  kinds  of  subjects.  Some  of  them  certainly  need  religion  more 
than  Oriental  pagans,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  have  none 
at  all.  Money,  clean  bodies,  health,  frequent  feeding,  "good 
times,"  and  a  respectable  position  summarize  their  philosophy 
of  life.  God  and  the  future  mean  practically  nothing  to  them. 
They  seem  to  have  got  beyond  the  idea,  to  have  had  their 
chance  and  missed  it.  I  often  hear  the  objection  that  there  are 
plenty  of  heathen  at  home.  Most  certainly  there  are,  and  the 
pity  of  the  situation  is  that  they  prefer  to  remain  such. 

Hanging  over  the  rail  of  an  ocean  liner  when  one  is  well  may 
appear  fruitless  occupation,  and  yet  it  has  decided  advantages. 
There  is  inspiration  in  the  great  expanse  of  sky  and  water  and 
there  is  freedom  from  distraction  fore  and  aft,  if  one  happens  to 
be  at  the  side  rail.  It  is  under  such  circumstances  that  I  usually 
talk  with  people. 

27 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

One  who  turned  up  yesterday  is  the  son  of  a  minister.  He 
knows  China  and  the  Chinese,  and  has  been  all  over  the  interior, 
representing  a  great  American  business  enterprise.  He  pre- 
faced his  remarks  by  emphasizing  his  own  breadth  of  view  and  his 
acquaintance  with  priests  here  and  there  on  two  continents,  and 
he  brought  out  one  point  worth  recording  in  this  matter  of  fact 
declaration:  "Your  Church  'puts  it  all  over'  ours  because  your 
priests  are  not  hampered  with  family  obligations.  I  found  them 
in  the  most  remote  places  and  they  were  'making  good'." 

Another  meeting  at  the  rail  discovered  a  man  from  near 
Boston,  who,  figuratively  speaking,  fell  on  my  neck  when  he 
found  that  I  could  eat  beans  and  had  coasted  on  Boston 
Common.  That  man  spent  the  first  five  minutes  running 
down  all  Protestant  ministers  aboard — ^who,  so  far  as  I  can 
observe,  do  not  deserve  such  treatment — and  exalting  the 
tribe  of  Catholic  priests  whose  members  he  had  often  met 
on  sea  and  land. 

On  Calm  Seas. 

The  Pacific  has  been  sustaining  its  name  beautifully  for  days. 
Wc  have  had  ideal  weather  and  an  expanse  of  blue  sea  smooth 
enough  to  fold  (there  is  a  dry-goods  man  watching  me  as  I  write). 
Except  at  Honolulu  we  have  not  seen  a  vessel  since  we  left  the 
Golden  Gate,  September  15 — it  is  now  the  twenty-fifth — but 
this  morning  we  passed  the  sister  ship  of  the  Tenyo  Maru  and 
she  came  so  close  that  the  passengers  of  both  steamers  could 
salute  one  another.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  and  brought  out  a 
line-up  of  cameras. 

As  I  was  closing  mine  and  preparing  to  turn  from  the  rail  a 
lady  standing  near  made  one  of  those  meaningless  rail  remarks 
that  led  in  a  few  moments  to  her  expression  of  unfeigned  admira- 
tion for  the  Old  Church  and  the  hope  that  she  might  som.e  day 
embrace  the  Faith.  I  suggested  a  daily  prayer  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  she  says  it.  Her  husband 
is  equally  interested. 

What  has  happened?  Yesterday,  so  far  as  I  recall,  was 
Tuesday,  September  25,  and  today  is  Thursday,  September  27, 
and  everybody  is  literally  and  otherwise  at  sea. 

28 


A  "city"  of  sampans  at  a  Chinese  river  mouth 
NAVIGATION     ON     CHINESE    WATERS 


OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

My  companion  should  have  celebrated  his  ordination  anni- 
versary on  the  twenty-sixth  and  we  had  no  twenty-sixth.  Our 
Spanish  friend,  who  sleeps  like  a  log  every  night  and  takes  a 
short  afternoon  nap  daily  from  two  to  five  o'clock,  is  almost 
convinced  that  he  did  not  wake  up  at  all  on  the  twenty-sixth. 

For  many  the  mystery  is  not  cleared,  but  the  fact  stands 
that  out  on  the  Pacific  Ocean,  when  the  180th  degree  of  latitude 
is  passed,  a  day  is  dropped  on  the  western  voyage  and  on  the 
eastern  trip  a  day  is  added.  In  any  event  we  are  a  day  nearer 
Japan,  and  while  some  travelers  dread  the  idea  of  shortening 
their  lives  even  by  a  day,  I  am  glad  to  get  nearer  to  the  field 
which  I  am  so  anxious  to  see — and  to  see  won  to  the  Spouse  of 
Christ! 

I  picked  up  a  Korean  today  but  did  not  recognize  his  nation- 
ality until  a  good-natured  Chinamanenlightenedme.  The  Korean 
hailed  from  Honolulu  and  told  me  his  life-story,  which  can  be 
summarized  in  these  two  chapters: 

1 — Left  Korea  as  a  boy  fifteen  years  ago. 

2 — After  many  struggles  became  the  respected  owner  of  a 
moving  picture  outfit  in  Honolulu. 

The  third  chapter  is  opening  with  the  wanderer's  return  to 
find  what  is  left  of  his  family;  and  the  fourth  will  be  to  establish 
another  "movie  parlor"  in  Shanghai.  I  like  this  Korean,  and  I 
have  an  idea  from  all  that  I  hear  of  Koreans  in  general  that 
their  country,  watered  with  the  blood  of  m.artyrs  (in  whom 
Maryknoll  has  been  interested  from  the  beginning),  must  be 
an  inviting  field. 

After  a  talk  with  the  Korean,  a  Japanese  student  turned  up. 
He  had  begun  his  American  studies  in  Leland  Stanford  Univer- 
sity, in  California.  His  family  needed  him  at  home  and  he  was 
returning  for  that  reason.  I  asked  him  what  occupation  he 
would  take  up  and  found  him  undecided  between  journalism 
and  business.  He  had  acquired  while  in  California  some  ideas 
about  the  Catholic  Church,  but  they  were  hazy  and  weak  because 
he  had  not  come  in  contact  with  Catholics.  He  knew,  for  example, 
that  near  the  Leland  Stanford  University  there  is  a  Catholic 
institution  at  Menlo  Park,  but  of  its  purpose  (it  is  the  diocesan 
Seminary  for  San  Francisco)  he  was  quite  ignorant. 

29 


OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Another  Japanese,  who  squatted  one  morning  at  the  foot 
of  my  chair,  had  traveled  widely  in  the  United  States  and  had 
kept  eyes  and  ears  open.  His  hobby  was  American  history  and 
he  seemed  to  have  visited  about  every  place  mentioned  by  the 
chroniclers  of  those  great  wars  that  now  read  like  old-time  school- 
boy fights.  In  and  around  Concord,  Lexington,  Bunker  Hill, 
Gettysburg,  and  a  score  of  other  places  he  had  reverently 
walked,  and  incidentally  he  had  sized  up  a  few  Catholic  institu- 
tions. He  had,  however,  never  met  a  Catholic  priest  in  his 
fourteen  years'  residence,  and  he  was  evidently  interested  to 
get  more  exact  data  about  American  Catholic  Church  hfe.  He 
was  aware,  he  said,  that  the  Church  embraces  people  of  many 
nations  and  that  its  head  is  the  Pope  in  Rome. 

I  have  met  several  of  the  twenty-five  Protestant  missionaries, 
but  have  not  talked  at  length  with  them.  Two  young  women 
were  introduced  yesterday — both  college  graduates.  One  is  des- 
tined for  a  normal  school  under  Presbyterian  auspices,  the 
other  is  bound  for  hospital  work  in  Canton.  I  presume  that 
both  are  listed  as  missionaries,  but  I  am  not  sure  of  this.  Today 
(I  am  writing  under  date  of  the  first  of  October),  a  minister 
came  over  to  my  chair  with  a  truth  pamphlet  on  Savanorola. 
He  had  found  it  at  the  Paulist  Church  of  San  Francisco  in 
the  vestibule  rack  and  had  become  much  interested.  He  had  a 
few  questions  to  ask  about  some  technical  terms  that  were  new 
to  him,  and  was  pleased  to  receive  a  copy  of  The  Question  Box 
by  Father  Conway,  the  author  of  the  pamphlet  referred  to. 

When  the  Wind  Blows. 

The  end  of  a  typhoon  struck  us  today,  and  it  was  the  long  end. 
Everything  was  on  end  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  Rocky  Mountains 
were  moving  by  us.  The  dining-room  was  almost  empty  and 
sounds  of  gayety  were  confined  to  the  privileged  few  who  are 
always  on  hand  to  enjoy  the  discomfiture  of  their  fellow  travelers. 
The  boat  creaked  and  rolled  until  well  towards  morning,  when 
the  sea  became  calm  enough  for  our  daily  Mass,  which  so  far, 
I  am  happy  to  say,  we  have  not  missed. 

Tuesday,  October  2,  was  to  mark  our  landing  at  Yokohama, 
but  that  typhoon-end  lashed  us  so  hard  that  we  only  limped  along 

30 


OBSERVAT I  QMS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

— ■ 9 ' 

yesterday,  and  we  shall  not  get  into  Yokohama  until  late  this 
evening.  But  already  we  are  in  sight  of  Japan,  and  as  I  make 
these  few  notes  I  can  see  the  Land  of  the  Rising  Sun.  The 
sun  happens,  however,  just  now  to  be  setting,  and  it  sinks 
gracefully  over  the  Island  Empire,  whose  interesting  people  we 
shall  soon  see  in  their  own  unique  environment. 

For  lack  of  something  better  to  do  I  took  again  to  the  rail 
and  watched  the  moon  during  the  space  of  a  half-hour. 

It  hung  barely  visible,  back  of  a  small  group  of  inky  clouds, 
with  the  sky  perfectly  clear  in  every  other  quarter.  Occasionally, 
as  the  cloud  thinned,  it  would  show  the  strength  of  its  light. 

Did  it  symbolize  the  difificulty  which  the  pure  Gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ  finds  in  penetrating  the  soul  of  this  ambitious 
little  empire? 

I  wondered  how  long  the  clouds  would  remain  and  how  long 
it  would  be  until  the  Soul  of  Japan  should  scatter  the  mists 
like  ashes. 

As  I  stood  there  I  thought  again  of  the  once  closed  ports 
that  were  opened  almost  in  my  own  generation;  of  the  discovery 
of  the  old  Christians  by  Father  Pettijean;  of  the  late  Bishop 
Chatron,  who  had  once  related  to  me  the  story  of  his  ministration 
to  the  imprisoned  faithful;  and  I  felt  a  momentary  sadness  as  I 
realized  that  my  old  friend,  "the  vagabond  bishop,"  as  he  used  to 
quaintly  describe  himself,  was  no  longer  of  earth. 


31 


OBSERVAT IONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  III 

THE   ISLAND   EMPIRE 

October  3,  1917. 

T  ABOUT  8  o'clock  Wednesday  morning,  we  passed 
through  the  breakwater  and  steamed  slowly  up  to 
our  dock.  A  haze  was  over  Yokohama,  and  the 
first  glimpse  of  a  Japanese  city  was  not  inspiring. 
It  looked  too  modern  at  that  distance  to  be  very 
interesting,  except  for  the  consciousness  that  we 
were  actually  about  to  enter  Japan. 
We  had  said  Masses  at  an  early  hour  on  the  boat.  Father 
Chabloz,  loyal  Jesuit  that  he  is,  offered  the  Mass  of  St.  Francis 
Xavier;  and  I,  as  a  professedly  world-wide  Catholic,  offered 
that  of  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith;  but  each  of  us  took  a 
commemoration  from  the  Mass  of  the  other,  and  both  recalled 
with  a  thrill  of  pride  the  marvelous  things  accomplished  by  the 
Apostle  of  the  Indies  in  the  land  on  which  we  were  so  soon  to 
set  foot. 

As  we  neared  the  wharf  the  line  of  people  broke  into  units 
and  we  began  to  realize  that  we  were  really  at  the  gateway  of 
Japan.  The  loose  garments  of  the  bare-legged  dock  hands  were 
embroidered  to  their  very  edge.  The  little  Japanese  women, 
demure  and  graceful,  seemed  to  have  their  black  hair  oiled  for 
the  occasion.  Old  men  and  old  women  were  there,  and  chilaren, 
all  scanning  earnestly  the  steamer  rail  to  discover  their  loved  ones. 

Friends. 

And  then  I  found  myself  looking  for  a  friendly  face.  Would 
there  be  one  at  that  yet  early  hour?  I  said  to  a  fellow-voyager 
beside  me,  "If  you  see  any  long-whiskered  man  in  that  line  let 
me  know." 

I  had  hardly  spoken  when  I  discovered  the  familiar  figure 
of  a  French  priest,  the  long  black  coat  covering  his  cassock, 
the  low  broad  hat,  and  a  wealth  of  beard  that  flowed  to  his 
cincture.  With  one  hand  shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun's  rays 
and  the  other  holding  what  looked  like  an  old-fashioned  carpet 
bag,  he  was  sweeping  our  line  with  penetrating  glances.     I  did 

32 


H 

w 

H 
m 


Q 

o 
< 

H 

I— I 

I 

< 

< 

O 

U! 
O 
>^ 


OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

not  know  him,  but  I  felt  that  he  was  there  for  my  companion 
or  myself,  and  I  waved  until  our  eyes  met,  when  his  great  hat 
was  lifted  and  swung  in  greeting  to  us. 

Then  about  forty  feet  away  I  noticed  two  more  bearded 
priests,  both  in  frock-coats,  and  again  there  was  mutual  rec- 
ognition though  all  of  us  were  strangers.  I  had  half-expected 
Father  Spenner,  a  Marianist  of  Yokohama,  and  my  companion 
had  been  instructed  to  look  for  one  of  his  Jesuit  confreres  from 
Tokyo.  We  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  two  in  frock-coats 
were  they,  and  our  surmise  proved  to  be  correct. 

But  the  French  priest — who  was  he?  Every  moment  we 
were  getting  nearer,  and  now  as  I  looked  again  along  the  wharf 
line,  I  saw  the  flash  of  a  ring — and  then  a  photograph  on  file 
at  MaryknoU  came  to  my  memory.  "The  Archbishop  of  Tokyo!" 
I  murmured,  and — I  nearly  fell  overboard. 

It  was  he,  and  with  all  the  pride  of  a  youngster  showing 
off  his  big  brother  I  announced  the  fact.  The  news  traveled 
and  ship-friends  who  came  up  to  say  good-bye  regarded  me 
suspiciously  or  with  unusual  respect — I  don't  know  which. 

We  were  soon  on  the  dock,  and,  though  not  smothered  in 
whiskers,  we  received  a  cordial  welcome  to  the  Land  of  the 
Rising  Sun  (which  expression  always  reminds  me  of  the  old 
stove-polish,  a  miserable  comparison,  I  admit). 

I  managed  to  lose  some  of  these  jottings  while  my  bags  were 
being  examined  and  after  the  important  little  officers  and 
finished  their  inspection  we  mounted  rickshaws  and  were 
pulled  away  by  hardy  little  yellow  men,  each  the  master  of  his 
own  conveyance. 

All  that  I  recall,  as  I  passed  out  of  the  modern  portion  of 
Yokohama  into  its  streets  alive  with  little  people  in  fantastic 
garb,  is  giving  myself  an  occasional  pinch  and  wondering  if  I 
was  not  assisting  at  some  moving  picture  show  or  attending  a 
child's  party. 

We  went  directly  to  the  base  of  a  flight  of  stone  steps  that 
rise  almost  perpendicularly  to  what  is  called  The  Bluff — a  name 
that  suggests  and  proves  to  be  slight  exaggeration  here.  My 
companion  had  run  off  with  the  other  Jesuit  to  some  more  Jesuits, 
and  we  three — Archbishop  Rey,   Father  Spenner  and  myself — 

33 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

mounted,  more  or  less  like  Alpine  climbers,  until  we  caught  our 
breath  on  the  top  step  and  passed  into  an  alley  that  bears  a 
dignified  name  and  is  referred  to  as  a  street. 

A  few  turns  brought  us  to  the  church,  and  we  entered  to 
salute  the  Tabernacled  Christ  before  going  into  the  house. 
The  church  was  to  me  very  attractive,  as  the  first  built  in  Japan 
after  the  opening  of  the  Empire  to  western  civilization.  It 
suggests  too  much  architecture  such  as  could  be  found  in  my 
own  country,  but  it  is  cozy  and  devotional. 

The  house  is  prettily  set,  well  back  from  the  street,  with  a 
garden  in  front.  The  typhoon  had  littered  our  path  with 
debris  and  the  priests'  garden  had  not  escaped,  but  evidently 
its  normal  condition  was  excellent.  Two  ancients  from  the  Paris 
Seminary,  Fathers  Pettier  and  Evrard,  were  on  hand  to  meet  us, 
their  beards  rivaling  in  magnitude  the  patriarchal  down  of 
Monseigneiir  V Archeveqiie  de  Tokyo,  but  the  meal  that  followed 
made  me  quite  forget  that  mine  was  the  only  smooth  face  in 
the  group. 

I  decided  to  remain  over  at  Yokohama  so  as  to  get  introduced 
gradually  to  new  surroundings,  and  the  Archbishop  left  for 
Tokyo  toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  This  gave  me  an 
opportunity  to  talk  English  to  myself,  to  take  some  photographs 
of  the  sacristan's  children,  and  to  make  a  sortie  through  the 
town. 

I  found  my  way  back  on  foot  to  the  wharf  and  then  summoned 
a  rickshaw.  It  was  a  lucky  chance,  because  the  driver  under- 
stood the  three  words  I  spoke  to  him,  "Kelly  and  Walsh." 
"Kelly  and  Walsh,"  not  to  mystify  you,  is  the  name  of  a  book 
and  stationery  firm  that  has  stores  in  several  cities  of  Eastern 
Asia.  I  attempted  to  trace  relationship  to  both  members  of 
the  firm — so  as  to  secure  reductions — but  learned  that  the 
originals  had  long  since  disappeared.  It  was  presumed  that 
they  had  come  to  the  East  from  the  Island  of  the  West,  but  no 
one  could  tell  me  if  they  are  over  or  under  the  old  or  the  new  sod. 

As  I  left  the  place  I  breathed  a  prayer  that  some  day  we 
should  have  more  "Kelly's  and  Walsh's"  in  the  Orient,  and  that 
they  would  come  not  to  sell  books  but  to  break  the  Bread  of  Life. 

Yokohama  has  nearly  four  hundred  thousand  people.       Two 

34 


OBSERV  AT  I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Catholic  churches  suffice,  one  for  Europeans,  the  other  for  the 
Japanese.  I  was  told  that  there  are  about  four  hundred  for- 
eigners in  Yokohama,  one  half  of  whom  are  Portuguese  from 
Macao,  the  remainder  being  made  up  of  various  nationalities, 
French,  English,  American,  Armenian,  and  so  forth.  The 
Japanese  Catholics  at  Yokohama  number  nearly  eight  hundred, 
but  they  are  frequently  shifting, 

I  mounted  to  the  Bluff  again  with  an  armful  of  purchases, 
and  as  I  turned  half-way  up,  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Fuji,  the 
so-called  "sacred"  mountain  of  Japan.  It  was  fifty  miles  away, 
but  it  looked  quite  clear  under  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  Church  in  Yokohama. 

The  next  morning  I  ofTered  Mass  for  the  first  time  on  the 
soil  of  Japan,  and  it  was  my  privilege  to  do  so  for  a  Christian 
Chinese  couple  whose  wedding  anniversary  was  being  celebrated 
that  day.  How  good  those  faces  looked,  all  in  the  little  group — 
father,  mother,  two  daughters  and  a  son!  The  light  of  Christ 
illumined  them,  and  I  confess  to  a  thrill  as  I  realized  the  possibili- 
ties which  this  single  experience  suggested. 

Shortly  after  Mass,  in  company  with  Father  Evrard  I 
visited  the  Sisters  of  St.  Maur  at  their  convent.  One  of  their 
number,  a  lay  Sister,  I  had  met  in  the  United  States,  and  she  is 
there  at  this  writing,  while  her  nephew  is  a  student  at  our 
preparatory  school,  the  V^nard. 

I  learned  that  there  is  a  little  Irish  nun  at  this  convent  and 
I  knew  that  she  would  be  glad  to  spin  a  few  yards  of  English 
for  my  benefit — and  her  own.  The  Superioress,  a  French  nun, 
welcomed  us  and  soon  produced  the  daughter  of  Erin,  who, 
though  disappointed  to  learn  that  I  am  not  Irish  of  the  Irish, 
was  evidently  delighted  to  meet  an  English-speaking  priest 
who  bore  her  family  name  and  whose  ancestors  had  come  from 
the  same  part  of  the  old  country  as  herself. 

To  my  surprise,  I  discovered  that  out  of  the  fourteen  Eu- 
ropean Sisters  in  this  house  not  one  but  five  are  Irish,  and  it  is 
needless  to  say  that  I  met  them  all.  There  are  also  in  this 
convent  seven  Japanese  nuns.  The  number  of  pupils  runs  into 
several  hundred,  and  of  these  one  hundred  and  forty  are  Europeans 

35 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 


of  various  nationalities,  the  remainder  being  Japanese — Catho- 
lics, non-Catholics,  Protestants,  Schismatics,  and  the  good 
Lord  knows  what  else. 

I  lunched  with  the  Marianist  Brothers  that  noon  and  looked 
into  their  school,  which  is  becoming  popular  like  that  in  Honolulu 
already  described.  All  their  teachers  are  religious  Brothers 
except  Father  Spenner.  He  is  much  interested  in  the  early 
history  of  Christianity  in  Japan  and  is  tracing  the  footsteps  of  the 
Tokyo  martyrs.  He  spoke  most  interestingly  of  a  sect  called  by 
a  name  resembling  the  word  Christian,  a  kind  of  secret  society 
that  is  supposed  to  be  a  remnant  of  the  early  converts. 

On  to  Tokyo. 

That  afternoon  I  made  my  way  to  the  electric  car  line  that 
runs  to  Tokyo,  and  after  presenting  two  good-sized  coppers  to 
the  red-hatted,  bare-legged  youngster  who  managed  my  bag 
I  sat  down  to  make  observations.  The  odd  cries  of  a  newsboy 
were  distracting  for  a  moment,  but  my  attention  was  soon 
riveted  to  the  incoming  passengers. 

They  certainly  are  quite  at  home,  these  Japanese,  in  their 
own  country.  One  who  took  the  corner  opposite  me  kicked  off 
his  sandals,  lifted  his  brown  legs  onto  the  seat,  and  prepared 
for  a  snooze,  seemingly  a  common  pastime  here.  Another, 
arrayed  above  the  hips  in  Scotch  tweed,  proceeded  to  unlace 
and  lace  his  stockings,  which  were  composed  of  a  long  ribbon 
such  as  military  men  use  for  leggings.  A  mother  near-by  slung 
the  baby  around  from  her  back  and  tidied  it  up  under  the  ob- 
servant eyes  of  the  silent  onlookers.  At  every  station  a  host  of 
school  children  alighted  and  flopped  along  the  pavement  in  their 
wooden  shoes,  making  a  noise  like  a  lot  of  caulkers  on  a  big  ship. 

My  station  came  at  last  and  following  instructions  I  sum- 
moned a  red-hat  as  if  I  understood  Japanese,  murmured  "Rick- 
shaw," and  in  a  moment  found  myself  in  the  presence  of  a 
rickshaw  director,  a  smiling  individual  who  looked  at  my  laundry 
check  directions,  said  some  magic  word  to  one  of  his  men,  and 
painted  on  a  slip  of  paper  for  me  the  figures  30 — which 
meant  that  I  should  pay  the  little  "horse-man"  thirty  sen — 
about   fifteen   cents — for   a   drive   that   seemed    to   me   a   mile. 

36 


HIS  EXCELLENCY,  ARCHBISHOP  PETRELLI,  ON  HIS   \1S1T   TO 

JAPAN  AS   PAPAL  ENVOY 


THE   PARISH   CHURCH   OF   THE   SACRED   HEART   AT   V0K01L\MA 

An  English  sermon  is  often  preached  here  for  foreign  residents,  among  whom  are 

some  Americans 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

We  dodged  in  and  out,  took  short  cuts,  nearly  killed  a  dog, 
brushed  the  dust  off  an  old  woman's  umbrella,  until  I  thought 
that  I  should  get  a  tip  in  place  of  the  driver,  and  at  last 
landed — at  the  Protestant  Episcopal  church!  I  knew  that  I 
was  at  the  wrong  place  and  would  not  dismount.  Then  there 
was  a  consultation  with  a  local  rickshaw  man,  and  a  few  moments 
later  I  was  landed,  feet  down,  at  the  archiepiscopal  palace  (save 
the  mark) ! 

A  poorly  dressed  Japanese  servant  made  the  usual  attempt  to 
break  his  back,  and  I  followed  him  up  a  flight  of  stairs  that 
reminded  me  of  old  days  on  sick  call  duty  in  the  tenement  district 
of  a  certain  large  city  parish. 

I  was  ushered  into  a  room  spacious  enough  but  with  bare 
walls  and  furnishings  that  recalled  a  storehouse.  The  Arch- 
bishop appeared  in  a  few  moments  and  made  excuses,  on  the 
plea  that  the  place  was  not  worth  repairing  and  that  he  was 
waiting  for  better  days  to  provide  something  more  respectable 
for  his  successor.  I  was  edified  rather  than  discomfited  and  my 
impression  deepened  as  I  remarked  the  spirit  of  poverty  through- 
out this  residence. 

At  dinner  that  evening  I  found  two  old  friends,  Fathers 
Steichen  and  Roussel,  both  of  whom  had  passed  through  the 
United  States,  also  a  young  missioner  whom  I  had  met  when  he 
was  a  student  at  Paris.  A  Japanese  priest,  too,  was  there  and  it 
seemed  good  to  see  him.  Father  Steichen  is  the  Director  of  the 
Seminary,  a  young  institution.  He  has  an  excellent  command 
of  English  and  has  observed  much.  He  publishes  two  magazines, 
both  in  Japanese,  one  for  adults,  the  other  for  children  and  less 
educated  Christians.  I  have  profited  much  from  my  conversation 
with  him. 

The  Cathedral  compound  is  in  the  heart  of  the  former  Euro- 
pean concessions  and  is  quite  surrounded  by  American  and  other 
foreign  institutions.  It  includes,  besides  the  church  and  house, 
the  Seminary  and  servants'  quarters. 

My  room  opens  out  on  a  balcony  which  looks  down  on  the 
courtyard  and  my  windows  were  carefully  closed  for  the  night 
just  before  we  separated  for  sleep.  As  an  ardent  believer  in 
the  value  of  fresh  air  I  carefully  opened  them,  and  after  a  "bit 

37 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

of  work"  under  the  light  of  a  solitary  candle  I  said  my  prayers 
like  a  good  Christian  in  that  pagan  land  and  turned  in. 

The  Archbishop  had  remarked  with  some  concern  that  the 
top  of  my  candle  had  been  used  to  fill  the  teeth  of  some  rodents, 
and  this  observation  recurred  to  me  as  I  threw  off  three  or  four 
blankets  toward  the  foot  of  the  bed,  but  nothing  happened  to 
disturb  my  sleep — nothing  at  least  from  without.  Otherwise  I 
admit  sleeping  very  little  that  night.  My  head  was  full  of  the 
present  and  of  the  future.  I  would  make  a  poor  historian,  I 
fear,  because  I  don't  like  to  look  back. 

Some  First  Impressions. 

My  Mass  was  to  be  at  six-thirty,  and  I  missed  more  than 
anything  else  at  Yokohama  that  supposedly  necessary  toilet 
article,  a  shaving  mirror.  I  actually  believe  that  many  of  our 
missioners  have  not  seen  their  faces  for  years,  and  that  if  they 
could  now  have  that  experience  each  would  ask  himself,  "Is 
that  your  face?" 

Now  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  a  looking-glass  is  indispensable, 
but  I  find  that  it  is  very  convenient  when,  in  the  process  of 
shaving,  one  wishes  to  explore  his  countenance.  Once  in  a 
priest's  house  in  the  archdiocese  of  Boston,  finding  no  mirror, 
I  used  the  brass  ball  of  a  bed  post.  When  staying  for  a  week  at  a 
seminary  in  Italy  I  found  that  I  could  follow  a  line  by  the  use 
of  the  dormer  window,  and  at  Yokohama  I  recalled  that  simple 
device  and  used  it  again,  but  here  I  was  phased.  The  dormer 
window  was  here,  but  to  get  it  at  a  proper  angle  meant  to  shave 
in  public,  so  I  contented  myself  with  feeling  my  way.  At  this 
writing  I  do  not  yet  know  the  result. 

As  I  passed  out  into  the  courtyard  towards  the  Cathedral, 
a  small  building  of  brick  lined  with  stone,  an  old  man  was  entering 
the  church.  He  mounted  the  vestibule  step,  kicked  off  his  noisy 
sandals,  placed  them  carefully  in  a  pigeon-holed  box  that  con- 
tained others,  and  in  his  stockinged  feet  went  inside. 

I  followed  him.  The  centre  of  the  church  was  occupied  with 
long  strips  of  matting,  fully  two  inches  thick,  and  scattered  here 
and  there  were  the  squatting  figures  of  Japanese — men,  women 
and  children,  devoutly  waiting  for  the  Archbishop's  Mass.     In 

38 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

benches  at  the  Epistle  side  the  seminarians  were  kneeling  in 
a  body  with  their  Director,  and  two  Japanese  students  of  theolo- 
gy, clad  in  cassock  and  surplice,  were  in  the  sanctuary  assisting 
the  Archbishop  to  vest. 

As  I  went  along  the  side  aisle  to  the  sacristy  I  noticed  an 
unusually  impressive  group — a  Japanese  mother,  still  young, 
and  her  three  little  ones,  the  smallest  directly  in  front  of  her, 
the  others  squatted  on  either  side,  and  all  four  intent  on  their 
devotions. 

After  Mass  I  found  waiting  in  the  courtyard  a  Japanese 
woman,  Miss  Ria  Nobechi,  She  had  just  returned  from  America, 
where  she  had  made  headquarters  at  Mary  knoll  and  given 
talks  in  various  schools  and  elsewhere.  She  had  resumed  her 
work  of  teaching  and  on  this  occasion  presented  one  of  her  god- 
children, whom  I  invited  to  join  the  Teresians,  only  to  learn  that 
she  was  a  Benedict (ine) — not  a  religious — with  tfiree  babes. 
She  will  send  one  of  the  babes  later. 

That  morning,  October  the  fifth,  the  Archbishop  took  me  to 
the  Jesuit  establishment  and  to  the  school  conducted  by  the 
Sisters  of  St.  Maur.  I  found  my  shipmate  enjoying  his  stay  and 
arranged  to  return  in  the  evening  to  meet  all  the  Fathers. 

We  then  went  towards  the  convent,  scraped  the  mud  from 
our  shoes,  stepped  gingerly  on  to  the  highly  polished  floor,  and 
were  soon  in  train  for  a  rapid  inspection  under  the  guidance  of 
the  Superioress  and  Miss  Nobechi  who  teaches  here. 

I  cannot  yet  fathom  these  convent  schools  in  Japan,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  I  fail  to  realize  the  large  proportion  of  pagans 
in  them.  Over  the  ocean  we  priests  are  usually  brought  into 
class-rooms,  welcomed  by  every  teacher,  and  often  urged  to  say 
a  few  words  to  the  pupils.  Here,  however,  in  schools  under 
Catholic  auspices,  we  are  reminded  that  most  of  the  pupils  are 
pagan,  and  that  some  of  the  teachers  are  likewise  afflicted. 
There  is  no  disposition  to  urge  "a  few  words,  Father,"  or  even 
an  entrance  into  the  class-room,  and  I  found  myself  leaving 
with  a  somewhat  disappointed  feeling. 

At  Yokohama  I  fear  that  I  must  have  offended.  In  some 
unaccountable  way  I  managed  to  face  a  class-room  of  adults 
and  I  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity  to  tell  them  about 

39 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  strength  of  CathoHcity  in  America,  and  to  explain  how  we 
are  trying  to  be  consistently  CathoHc  as  well  as  patriotic. 
By  the  time  I  reached  Tokyo  I  looked  for  no  further  oppor- 
tunity. Espionage  is  in  fashion  today  and  it  seems  to  permeate 
the  atmosphere  of  this  country — so  much  so  that  at  times  one 
hesitates  to  take  a  long  breath  lest  he  should  start  up  some  auto- 
matic police  alarm. 

For  a  long  time  I  have  heard  that  the  Catholic  faith  makes 
little  progress  among  the  Japanese,  and  I  am  beginning  to 
realize  this — though  not  without  a  glimmer  of  hope  for  the  future. 

Tokyo  itself  is  a  city  of  more  than  two  million  inhabitants 
and  in  the  entire  diocese  there  are  nearly  sixteen  millions  of 
people,  all  told.  Of  these  ten  thousand  are  Catholics,  or  one  in 
every  six  hundred. 

Assisting  the  Archbishop,  at  this  writing,  in  the  regular  work 
of  the  diocese  are  eighteen  priests  (three  Japanese),  and  several 
of  these  are  far  along  in  years.  Ten  young  priests  are  registered 
as  "at  the  front  in  France."  As  a  rule  the  parishes  are  in  charge 
of  the  diocesan  priests,  but  at  Yokohama,  where  the  two  vener- 
able alumni  of  the  Paris  Seminary  reside,  some  of  the  work  is 
done  by  the  Marianist  Father  alluded  to  above. 

At  Tokyo  there  are  six  parishes  with  schools  attached,  and 
here  several  institutions  are  making  visible  progress.  Among 
these  are  the  school  above  mentioned,  conducted  by  the  Sisters 
of  St.  Maur,  and  the  Jesuit  establishment. 

The  Jesuit  College. 

Anxious  to  get  a  better  insight  into  the  Jesuit  work,  I  went 
back,  as  promised,  for  dinner  and  was  very  kindly  received. 

The  main  building,  which  is  new,  is  constructed  in  red  Japanese 
brick.  The  style  of  architecture  is  European — or  at  least  not 
Japanese.  The  property  covers  about  five  acres  and  is  of  con- 
siderable value.  There  are  eight  priests  under  Father  Hoffmann, 
the  Rector,  and  no  fewer  than  seven  nationalities  are  represented, 
including  German,  American,  Swiss,  French,  and  Japanese. 
Ninety  students  follow  courses  here,  and  of  these  some  ten  or 
twelve  are  Catholics.  The  curriculum  has  some  resemblance  to  a 
college  course  in  the  United  States  and  the  principal  subjects  taught 

40 


ENTRANCE   TO   THE   COLLEGE 


SOME   OF   THE   FATHERS 


lACULTY-HOUSE   OX   THE   JESUIT   COLLEGE   GROUNDS 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

are  philosophy,  Hterature,  science,  and  commerce.  The  priests  are 
all  constantly  occupied  and  they  are  aided  by  thirteen  Japanese 
instructors,  one  of  whom,  a  naval  officer,  teaches  finance.  In 
our  accepted  sense  of  the  term  the  Jesuit  establishment  can 
hardly  be  called  a  university  but  it  follows  the  custom  adopted 
here. 

The  university  is  known  as  The  Imperial  University,  a 
Government  institution  from  which  it  is  the  ambition  of  every 
aspiring  youth  to  graduate.  The  waiting  list,  I  am  told,  is 
usually  ten  times  the  number  of  students  accepted.  Those  who 
cannot  wait  to  enter,  or  who  are  turned  down,  find  openings 
in  private  schools,  the  largest  of  these  being  the  Keio,  a  secular 
institute.  The  Jesuits  have  provided  another  opening  for 
disappointed  students,  and  although  at  first  they  found  them- 
selves instructing  such  as  were  not  altogether  promising,  the 
standard  has  gradually  risen  and  they  are  convinced  that  the 
result  of  their  work  will  before  long  manifest  to  the  Japanese 
the  value  of  their  special  training.  The  initial  expense  of  this 
undertaking  was  naturally  borne  by  the  Society  of  Jesus,  but 
the  establishment  will  gradually  become  self-supporting  and  it 
is  partly  so  now.  Two  of  the  Fathers  teach  outside,  one  of 
them  at  the  Imperial  University,  and  this  service  brings  some 
additional  revenue. 

I  left  the  Jesuits,  convinced  that  they  will  effect  much  good 
and  impressed  with  their  condition  which,  for  lack  of  infor- 
mation published  in  the  United  States,  I  had  been  led  to  believe 
not  altogether  hopeful. 

The  rain  was  falling  when  I  started  back,  and  as  the  Cathedral 
was  some  distance  away  and  not  easy  for  a  stranger  to  find, a 
rickshaw  was  summoned,  with  the  top  up  and  sides  closed.  I 
backed  in  awkwardly  and  wondered  what  more  portly  men  do  on 
such  occasions;  but  I  managed  to  get  seated,  whereupon  my 
little  "horse"  threw  a  lap-robe  over  my  knees,  tucked  it  in, 
buckled  down  the  front  curtain  before  I  could  say  good-bye  to 
my  friends,  and  trotted  off  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  along  the 
silent  streets. 

I  had  a  strange  sensation.  That  evening  one  of  those  good 
Jesuits  had  told  a  story  of  some  traveler  who  picked  up  a  piece  of 

41 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

lead  pipe  from  under  his  feet  in  a  rickshaw  just  in  time  to  defend 
himself  from  attack  in  a  dark  alley  to  which  he  had  been 
purposely  brought.  The  story  came  back  to  me  now,  and  at  the 
same  time  I  felt  that  I  should  smother  for  lack  of  air,  and  I 
wondered  which  would  be  the  less  painful  experience,  getting 
smothered  or  beaten  to  death. 

I  could  not  open  the  curtain  but  I  managed  to  pull  it  back  a 
few  inches,  and  through  a  small  window  I  could  see  the  little 
man's  mushroom  hat  bobbing  as  he  ran.  This  satisfied  me  so 
much  that  I  quite  forgot  about  the  foot  of  pipe  for  which  in 
imagination  I  had  been  already  searching.  We  reached  the 
Cathedral  safely  and  an  extra  five  cents  sent  my  "horse"  off 
without  a  neigh. 

The  Sacred  Heart  Convent. 

Two  other  self-supporting  houses  I  saw  after  this — one  the 
Academy  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  the  other  the  Morning  Star 
School. 

My  companion  on  this  excursion  was  a  Japanese  priest,  who 
is  the  official  pastor  of  the  Cathedral  parish.  I  tried  on  him  in 
turn  what  slender  stock  of  languages  I  could  summon,  but  he 
smiled  at  every  attempt.  He  was  useful,  however,  because  we 
had  to  make  half-a-dozen  transfers  before  returning  and  his 
Japanese  hit  the  mark  every  time. 

The  day  was  again  rainy  and  the  narrow  streets  were  alive 
with  great  bobbing  sunshades.  Everybody  seemed  to  have  one, 
and  I  was  a  curiosity  with  only  a  raincoat  and  a  felt  hat. 
I  noticed  on  this  occasion  for  the  first  time  the  straw  capes  which 
hang  from  the  shoulders  of  workingmen  like  thatch  on  a  wigwam. 
Occasionally  we  met  men  harnessed,  and  pulling  great  loads  of 
merchandise,  but  some  of  these  were  more  particular  than  the 
rickshaw  men  and  carried  a  sunshade  as  they  walked. 

Wet  soles  must  be  rare  among  most  of  the  Japanese.  They 
flop  along  with  each  foot  strapped  to  a  rectangular  piece  of  half- 
inch  board,  under  which  are  fastened  two  smaller  pieces  that 
keep  the  bearer  elevated  a  couple  of  inches  at  least  above  the 
sidewalk,  so  that  his  feet  are  clear  of  dampness  or  mud.  Catarrhal 
affections  are    nevertheless  evident  in  this  country,  so  much 

42 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

60  that  one  of  my  fellow-voyagers  who  often  crosses  the  Pacific 
expressed  his  determination,  when  rich,  to  establish  a  fund  for 
the  provision  of  handkerchiefs  to  the  children  of  Japan. 
Consumption,  too,  is  very  common,  probably  because  the 
houses  are  huddled  and  the  people  have  not  yet  been  trained 
to  the  value  of  fresh  air.  On  the  other  hand,  when  one  looks  into 
the  construction  of  houses  he  realizes  that  air,  even  if  it  be  not 
full  of  sweet  odors,  can  hardly  be  kept  out. 

The  Academy  of  the  Sacred  Heart  was  a  revelation.  It  has 
an  extensive  and  excellent  property  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
about  one  hour's  electric  car  ride  from  the  Cathedral.  It  was 
pouring  rain  when  we  reached  the  convent,  and  as  I  saw  the 
Japanese  portress,  and  looked  in  on  the  immaculate  floor,  I 
felt  like  a  tramp,  but  we  went  in  just  the  same — as  a  tramp  would 
have  done.  The  Reverend  Mother  was  on  retreat  but  we 
were  soon  under  the  kindly  guidance  of  her  assistant  and  of 
Mother  Heydon,  a  sister  of  the  foundress  of  this  house. 

The  place  is  already  quite  as  extensive  as  some  of  the  largest 
among  the  Sacred  Heart  convents  in  the  United  States,  and  a 
spacious  chapel  is  under  construction.  There  are  twenty-three 
choir  nuns  here,  and  ten  lay  Sisters.  The  language  school  has 
one  hundred  and  twenty  Christians,  representing  many  races, 
but  most  of  the  pupils  though  not  Japanese  were  born  in  Japan. 
(I  found  Hartford,  Connecticut,  represented  there.)  The 
little  ones,  especially  the  Japanese  Christian  children,  were 
nothing  short  of  "fetching,"  and  seemed  inclined,  once  they 
started,  to  shake  a  stranger's  hand  all  day. 

We  passed  into  the  Japanese  section  where  one  hundred  and 
eighty  daughters  of  well-known  pagan  parents  are  taught. 
Here  I  found,  besides  the  Sisters,  Japanese  lay  teachers,  men  and 
women,  and  an  opportunity  was  given  to  enter  the  class-rooms. 
Catholic  emblems  are  not  wanted  in  this  section. 

I  have  never  seen  in  young  people  such  concentration  as  can 
be  noted  in  the  Japanese  students,  boys  or  girls.  A  group  of 
visitors  may  approach  the  open  door  of  a  class-room  and  hardly 
a  head  will  turn  to  see  who  is  there.  The  seriousness  of  the 
pupils  in  this  respect  is  an  object  lesson,  although  it  indicates 
a  certain  trait  that  has  its  disadvantages.     Such  deep  absorp- 

43 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

tion  often  prevents  an  appreciation  of  surrounding  influences 
and  makes  the  judgment  lack  balance. 

The  Sacred  Heart  Nuns  deserve  great  credit  for  the  absolute 
confidence  in  God  that  has  made  possible  their  development  in 
Tokyo,  and  for  their  splendid  efforts.  They  have  already 
attained  success  and  have  won  the  confidence  of  many  high- 
minded  and  influential  Japanese. 

We  hurried  down  the  hill  in  a  pouring  rain,  passing  a  real 
automobile,  a  Ford,  and  several  rickshaws  that  were  going  after 
some  day  pupils.  I  was  tempted  to  commandeer  the  Ford  for 
the  sake  of  old  times,  but  my  Japanese  companion  would  have 
been  shocked  at  so  bold  a  move  so  we  flopped  on,  dodging  piles 
of  the  debris  with  which  every  portion  of  this  city  is  littered 
since  the  typhoon. 

Centenary  of  the  Marianists. 

Sunday,  October  7,  presented  an  unusual  opportunity.  It 
was  the  centenary  of  the  foundation  of  the  Marianist  Brothers 
and  a  day  of  rejoicing  in  the  Catholic  Church  of  Tokyo.  The 
Archbishop  was  due  to  pontificate  in  the  College  chapel,  and  the 
community  Mass  was  mine  to  offer  for  the  faithful  of  the  diocese. 

To  me,  a  stranger,  it  was  most  interesting  and  edifying,  this 
public  Mass  in  the  pretty  little  Gothic  Cathedral.  A  foreigner — 
an  American,  I  understood — in  the  first  pew  was  the  only  racial 
exception,  and  the  mats  were  lined  with  the  squatting  figures 
of  Japanese,  men  on  the  Epistle  side  and  women  on  the  Gospel 
side.  An  old  catechist  led  the  prayers,  which  continued,  with 
slight  interruptions,  throughout  the  Mass. 

At  the  elevation  of  the  Host  and  of  the  chalice  the  usual 
profound  silence  was  followed  by  reverent  ejaculations  from  all. 
A  goodly  proportion  of  those  present  received  Communion,  and 
after  Mass  a  short  exhortation  was  given  in  Japanese  by  the 
pastor.  There  was  no  rush  for  the  exit  and  no  hurry  to  get  away 
after  the  services. 

At  eight  o'clock  we  left  for  the  Marianist  celebration.  It 
was  cloudy  again,  threatening  rain,  and  as  the  occasion  was  a 
great  one  a  stately  Ford  had  been  hired  for  seventy-five  cents, 
to  bring  the  Archbishop  and  two  of  us  priests  to  the  Brothers' 

44 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

residence.  The  Archbishop,  who  usually  dresses  rather  shabbily, 
had  his  best  hat  dusted  for  the  event,  and  we  sortied  majestically 
through  the  wide-opened  gates  of  the  compound,  out  into  the 
alleys,  and  later  into  and  through  the  widened  streets  of  this 
populous  city. 

The  Brothers  of  Mary  were  most  cordial,  and  before  Mass  I 
had  a  view  of  the  city  from  their  roof,  where  I  met  a  former 
graduate  of  the  Morning  Star  School,  a  Japanese  gentleman 
whose  name  is  well  known  and  who  is  a  credit  to  his  Alma  Mater 
as  to  the  Church  of  Tokyo. 

The  signal  for  Mass  brought  us  to  the  chapel,  which  is  not 
at  all  proportioned  to  the  personnel  of  a  school  with  more  than 
a  thousand  pupils  but  which  is  adequate  for  the  number  of 
Christians  there.  The  Ecce  Sacerdos  Magnus  was  sung  as  the 
Archbishop  went  to  his  throne,  and  the  chant  of  the  Mass  was 
well  rendered,  the  Solesmes  edition  being  used.  The  Brothers 
did  most  of  the  chanting,  but  some  of  the  younger  boys  also 
sang,  and  their  high  voices,  though  somewhat  hesitating  and  a 
little  piping,  were  restrained  and,  to  my  ear,  pleasing. 

We  went  into  the  yard  at  the  close  of  Mass  and  I  looked 
through  the  buildings.  They  are  extensive,  but  appeared  a 
little  the  worse  for  wear.  They  tell  the  story  of  hard,  pains- 
taking and  successful  work  accomplished  by  these  loyal 
sons  of  Father  Chaminade,  who  have  made  a  visibly  strong 
impression  on  the  city  of  Tokyo  as  elsewhere  in  this 
Island  Empire. 

At  eleven  o'clock  we  assembled  again  for  the  panegyric  and 
Benediction.  Father  Steichen,  of  the  Cathedral,  was  the  preacher 
and  he  was  evidently  effective.  He  spoke  very  fluently  in  Japan- 
ese, of  which  language  I  am  told  he  is  a  master. 

Then  came  the  dinner,  interrupted  every  few  moments  with 
poetry,  song,  oratory,  chronicle,  or  occasional  "banzais."  At 
the  end,  the  Marianist  Provincial,  Father  Heinrich,  thanked 
everybody  in  sight,  including  the  man  who  came  from  America 
to  represent  that  country  on.  this  occasion  (Brothers  of  Mary 
at  Dayton  and  elsewhere  in  the  United  States  will  please  take 
notice!),  and  in  spite  of  dampness  and  clouds  a  photograph  was 
taken,  after  which  we  returned  to  the  Archbishop's. 

45 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

This  was  Sunday,  and  it  felt  like  the  Lord's  Day  until  we 
came  out  again  into  the  city  and  I  realized  that  I  was  not  in  a 
Christian  land.  There  are  two  days  of  rest  here  each  month, 
besides  the  occasional  state  holidays,  but  Sunday  means  nothing 
to  the  pagan  world. 


46 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


CHAPTER  IV 


NORTHWARD  TO  NIKKO  AND  SENDAI 

LEFT  the  Archbishop's  house  for  Nikko  on  Monday 
afternoon,  October  8.  It  was  raining  again,  and 
the  little  horseman  had  a  long  run — over  two 
miles — for  his  money,  thirty  cents.  He  dumped  me 
out  finally  and  followed  me  into  the  station  to  see 
that  I  was  safe.  Instinctively  I  made  for  the  news- 
stand but  there  was  nothing  in  sight  except  Japan- 
ese ideographs,  and  joining  the  procession  of  clack-clacks  I 
found  my  way  to  the  train  and  settled  down  in  a  corner  of  the 
car  for  a  four-hour  run. 

Under  advice  I  am  traveling  in  the  second  class.  The  cars 
are  narrow,  arranged  with  long  benches  on  either  side  facing 
each  other,  as  in  some  American  electric  cars.  Everybody 
who  entered,  man,  woman,  or  child,  was  at  home  immediately, 
kicking  his  or  her  shoes  off,  mounting  to  the  seat,  and  squatting 
cross-legged  or  back  on  the  heels.  A  little  mother  opposite 
and  I  were  the  only  exceptions.  She  was  too  busy  to  take  the 
comfortable  position.  Her  two  children  were  all  over  the  car 
a  dozen  times  every  ten  minutes,  but  they  never  mounted  the 
seat  without  removing  their  shoes. 

Shortly  after  we  started  two  worthies  at  one  end  of  the  car 
faced  each  other  on  the  seat,  enjoyed  a  meal  of  rice  with  chop- 
sticks, and  after  a  few  puffs  of  smoke  curled  up,  each  in  his  own 
three  feet  of  space,  and  went  to  sleep. 

A  well-dressed,  clean-cut  youth  across  the  way  from  me 
buried  himself  in  what  looked  to  be  a  "funny"  paper,  smoked  a 
cigarette  at  intervals  of  ten  minutes,  and  stuck  to  his  heels  until 
he  reached  his  station.  His  departure  left  vacant  a  coveted 
corner,  which  was  immediately  seized  by  a  young  countryman 
who,  with  his  aged  father,  had  been  earnestly  scrutinizing  the 
rice  fields.  The  young  man  spread  a  blanket  for  his  parent, 
blew  up  a  rubber  pillow,  and  tucked  in  the  older  man  as  carefully 
as  would  a  mother  her  babe. 

There  were  two  army  officers  on  the  car,  and  after  a  while  a 
third  entered.    As  every  army  officer  is  supposed  to  do,  this  one 

47 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

took  himself  seriously  and  came  in  with  much  dignity,  looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  After  he  had  sat  down  he 
spied  the  other  officers  and,  rising  as  if  he  had  been  s.tung,  he 
saluted  majestically.  Then  there  was  an  exchange  of  cards 
(always  bring  at  least  five  hundred  visiting  cards  when  you 
come  to  the  Far  East),  after  which  each  sat  stiffly  in  his  own 
place,  probably  wishing  that  he  was  at  home  on  the  old  job  so 
that  he,  too,  could  kick  ofif  his  shoes  and  enjoy  life. 

The  backs  gradually  bent,  however,  under  the  strain,  and  a 
little  later  all  three  army  officers  were  asleep,  our  dignified  friend 
with  one  handkerchief  behind  his  head  and  another  covering  his 
face.  As  I  look  at  these  sleeping  Japanese,  and  study  their  faces, 
I  am  constantly  reminded  of  the  American  Indians.  The  resem- 
blance is  especially  striking  when  the  coarse,  straight  black  hair 
falls  over  the  shoulders  of  children. 

Towards  Nikko  I  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  two  youths. 
It  was  getting  dark  and,  fearing  to  pass  the  station,  I  took  out 
my  watch  and  asked,  in  signs,  what  time  we  should  arrive  at 
Nikko. 

There  was  excitement  for  several  minutes,  and  then,  after  a 
silent  calculation  that  took  at  least  three  minutes  more,  one  of 
the  young  men — they  proved  to  be  school  teachers — said  in  a 
triumphant  tone,  "One  OWER!" 

Then  both  sided  up  to  me  for  some  brilliant  conversation. 
After  the  usual  exchange  of  cards  we  settled  down  to  business 
and  I  began:   "Tokyo  big  city — two  millions?" 

Smiles  came  back — and  nothing  more.  I  wrote  it  out — 
printed  it  legibly  if  I  do  say  so,  and  I  know  that  my  friends  will 
not  believe  this.  Immediately  the  answer  came:  "Yes,  father, 
mother,  one  sister,  ttvo  brothers,  yes." 

I  expressed  great  satisfaction,  and  we  continued  until  my 
friends  came  to  their  station,  when  both  attempted  the  back- 
breaking  exercise  and  I,  somewhat  distracted,  offered  my  hand, 
which  was  seized  by  one.  The  other  then  cam.e  over,  put  out 
his  hand  and  said — "  How  do  you  do?  I  hope  good  of  your  kind- 
ness." 

And  of  course  I  answered,  with  the  emphasis  of  the  latest 
New  York  slang,  "Good-night!" 

48 


PAGAN  PRIESTS   AT  NIKKO 

Under  an  avenue  of  noble  trees  into  the  heart  of  heathendom."     {p.  4g.) 


OBSERVAT  IONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  got  into  pantomime  with  three  other  men  after  that,  and  as 
one  of  them  belonged  to  Nikko  we  became  fast  friends.  I 
learned  that  I  could  reach  my  night-rest  oy  an  electric  car,  and 
we  found  the  vehicle  waiting.  How  a  really  fat  and  tall  man 
could  enter  that  car  I  do  not  know,  but  I  managed  to  get  in, 
although  my  mediocre  legs  seemed  to  reach  almost  across  the 
aisle.  The  little  car  was  soon  crowded  with  men,  women,  and 
bundles,  and  I  really  thought  that  the  conductor  could  not 
collect  his  fares,  but  he  did  so. 

"Who  has  not  seen  Nikko  cannot  say  beautiful." 

— Sir  Edwin  A  mold. 

There  is  no  Catholic  priest  in  Nikko  and  no  Catholic  church 
at  this  famous  shrine,  to  which  Buddhist  and  Shinto  pilgrims 
flock  daily  by  the  hundreds  and  thousands  to  propitiate  their 
hideous  gods  or  to  pray  to  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors.  There 
is  here,  however,  an  Episcopal  church  which  has  a  resident 
clergyman  part  of  the  year  and  is  served  at  other  times  by  visitors. 

I  stayed  over  at  a  small  European  hotel  that  reminded  me 
of  a  New  England  summer  resort,  heard  English  spoken  with 
American  and  English  accents,  met  the  Secretary  of  the  Portu- 
guese Embassy,  who  had  brought  his  family  to  Nikko  for  its 
mountain  air,  and  turned  in  for  an  early  rising. 

The  temples  open  every  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  and  it 
seemed  a  pity  to  have  no  opportunity  for  Mass  and  yet  to  be  on 
my  way  to  a  first  glimpse  of  paganism  in  the  making.  The  hotel 
kindly  provided  me  with  a  guide,  and  we  started  off  in  a  slight 
drizzle,  under  an  avenue  of  noble  trees,  into  the  heart  of  heathen- 
dom. I  have  seen  these  temples  pictured  on  screens  and  post- 
cards, on  the  walls  of  houses  and  in  the  pages  of  books,  and  I  was 
prepared  for  disappointment,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  found  the 
reality,  from  a  material  point  of  view,  more  beautiful  than  I  had 
anticipated. 

We  paid  for  the  ticket  of  admittance,  which  included  visits  to 
the  temple  and  to  the  museum,  and  were  soon  in  the  presence  of 
marvelous  lacquer  work,  intricate  carvings,  great  lengths  of  soft 
gold,  hideous  idols,  stolid  Buddhas,  and  green-robed  Shinto 
priests.     Shoes  were  taken  off  at  least  five  times  during  that 

49 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

visit,  but  fortunately  my  guide  had  brought  along  some  thick 
woolen  slippers  so  that  I  could  walk  with  less  agony  and  with 
my  holey  socks  covered. 

I  noticed  the  pilgrims.  Each  group  as  it  approached  was 
met  by  a  priest,  dressed  in  a  kind  of  chasuble  over  what  might  be 
taken,  at  a  distance,  to  be  an  alb,  and  each  wearing  a  black 
cap,  hardly  less  odd  in  shape  than  our  birettas.  As  the  pilgrims 
entered  the  temple  they  were  told  to  line  up  and  were  given  a 
signal  (by  the  clapping  of  hands)  to  squat.  Then  the  priest 
read  in  a  monotonous  voice  several  prayers,  while  his  hearers 
bowed  in  adoration  of  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors.  All  was  over 
in  a  few  minutes  and  each  pilgrim,  in  turn,  folded  a  coin  in  a 
piece  of  paper  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

A  visit  to  the  holy  of  holies  would  mean  the  release 
of  five  yen  (two  dollars  and  a  half) ;  but  I  had  seen  riches 
enough,  and  the  evidences  of  superstition,  combined  with  a 
depressing  sensation  caused  by  the  sight  of  monstrous  and  ugly 
idols,  hurried  me  on. 

Crossing  the  court  of  one  temple,  we  passed  a  small  shrine 
on  the  floor  of  which  sat  a  Shinto  priestess  clad  in  white.  Her 
face  was  wrinkled  and  solemn,  and  my  presence  made  no  visible 
impression  on  her.  But  as  we  stood  there  a  small  company  of 
pilgrims  stopped,  and  the  old  dame  gracefully  arose,  opened  her 
fan,  and  made  some  slow  gyrations  that  drew  from  the  respectful 
spectators  a  wealth  of  small  coins  which  they  threw  at  the  feet  of 
their  priestess. 

We  continued  our  inspection,  mounted  stone  steps  under 
another  avenue  of  fine  evergreens,  and  made  towards  the  tomb 
of  a  shogun.  Returning,  I  noticed  the  priestess  in  a  corner 
and  had  a  strong  suspicion  that  she  was  counting  the  "haul." 
Later  in  the  day  I  saw  another  priestess,  apparently  younger, 
walking  through  the  main  street  of  Nikko,  ringing  a  bell  and 
followed  by  a  crowd. 

What  impresses,  or  rather  depresses  me,  as  I  look  into  the 
religious  customs  here  is  the  utter  absence  of  love  for  God.  The 
idea  of  worship  is  always  associated  with  fear,  fear  of  impending 
calamities,  of  loss  of  life,  or  property,  or  opportunities  for  advance- 
ment.   God  as  a  kind  Father  is  not  considered ;  and  yet  I  have 

50 


'We  paid  for  the  ticket  of  admittance  and  were  soon  in  the  presence  of  marvelous  lacquer 

•work,  intricate  carvings,  great  lengths  of  soft  gold,  hideous  idols,  stolid 

Buddhas,  and  green-robed  Shinto  priests."     {p.  4g.) 


The  Sacred  Bridge,  a  structure  covered  icith  red  lacquer,  over  which  no  one 
but  the  Emperor  may  pass."     {p.  §i.) 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN    THE   ORIENT 

heard  Christians  at  home — such  as  they  were — ask  themselves 
if  we  should  disturb  pagans  in  their  religion.  The  atmosphere  of 
a  pagan  temple,  if  it  could  be  transferred  as  readily  as  a  moving 
picture  film,  would  help  to  make  such  Christians  realize  their 
own  advantages,  and  would  perhaps  stimulate  them  to  spread 
the  blessings  of  Christ  to  others. 

I  left  Nikko  shortly  after  noon,  passing  on  the  way  the 
Sacred  Bridge,  a  structure  covered  with  red  lacquer,  over  which 
no  one  but  the  Emperor  may  pass. 

The  Emperor!  I  have  not  said  much  of  him,  nor  in  fact  have 
I  heard  much  about  him  since  my  arrival.  His  father  was 
thought  for  a  while  to  be  a  god  and  some  people  have  an  im- 
pression that  the  son  would  not  object  to  being  idolized,  too. 
The  better  educated  classes  would  hardly  take  this  idea  seriously, 
but  patriotism  is  a  passion  in  Japan  and  about  every  Japanese 
would  fall  into  line  and  adore  the  Emperor,  at  least  as  good 
politicians,  if  it  were  thought  wise  to  do  so.  At  the  same  time, 
the  aspiring  Japanese  does  not  like  to  be  ridiculed  and  the  good 
opinion  of  the  Western  World  is  not  to  be  despised. 

I  wondered  who  swept  the  bridge — which  looks  a  little  the 
worse  for  wear — and  jaunted  along  to  the  railway  station,  where 
a  swarm  of  pilgrim  schoolboys  from  the  country  feasted  their 
eyes  on  me  and  followed  me  about  as  if  I  were  the  Emperor 
himself.  With  some  difficulty  I  bought  a  ticket  for  Sendai,  and 
went  into  the  waiting  room,  only  to  find  every  window  lined 
with  inquisitive  schoolboys. 

Just  as  I  was  beginning  to  feel  queer  a  Japanese  pilgrim  with 
his  wrinkled  wife  came  up  smiling,  and  pronounced  two  words, 
"Tenyo  Maru,"  which  I  recognized.  The  good  couple  had  seen 
me  on  board  the  steamer  Tenyo  Maru.  They  belonged  in  Osaka 
and  had  come  to  Nikko  to  worship  their  ancestors  before  going 
home.  Our  conversation  was  brief,  but  it  made  a  decided 
impression  on  the  vigilant  students  and  raised  the  old  couple 
several  notches  in  the  estimation  of  the  herd  of  pilgrims  on  the 
platform. 

Between  Nikko  and  a  junction  I  met  an  Episcopalian  minis- 
ter from  New  Jersey,  who  put  direct  questions  to  me  and  received 
direct  answers.     He  was  really  glad  to  talk  with  an  American. 

51 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

He  had  just  left  his  wife  and  children  at  Nikko  so  as  to  give 
them  a  change  of  air.  I  learned  from  him  that  the  period  of  stay 
in  Japan  for  Episcopalian  ministers  is  five  years,  at  the  end  of 
which  period  each  man  has  his  furlough.  He  may  then  resume 
his  foreign  mission  or  not,  as  he  chooses.  The  Episcopalians 
of  America  unite  in  council  with  the  Church-of-England  ministers 
here  in  Japan,  the  oldest  in  the  ministry  presiding. 

We  separated  at  the  junction  and  I  continued  to  Sendai, 
meeting  on  the  train  a  Japanese  naval  officer  who  had  studied  at 
Annapolis.  Like  all  Japanese,  he  wished  to  know  how  long  I 
was  staying  and  where  I  was  going.  When  he  learned  the  pur- 
pose of  my  mission  he  expressed  the  hope  that  we  would  send 
some  American  priests  to  Japan,  as  also  his  regret  that  some  of  the 
American  sects  had  exported  an  inferior  grade  of  workers. 

The  ride  to  Sendai  seemed  long,  after  dusk.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  my  feet  although  a  pair  of  slippers  had  been 
placed  near  them  by  the  conductor.  Finally  I  went  into  the 
dining  compartment  and  called  for  what  looked  like  a  harmless 
dish.  It  came,  and  as  I  untied  the  chopsticks  I  realized  that 
I  was  "up  against  it."  Did  I  flinch?  Yes,  I  made  signs  of  distress 
and  caught  a  fork,  but  that  did  not  change  the  taste  of  the  con- 
coction which,  after  I  had  nibbled  at  it  for  a  respectable  length 
of  time,  I  waved  back  to  the  kitchenette. 

We  arrived  at  Sendai  on  time,  shortly  after  nine  o'clock,  and 
I  actually  fell  into  the  arms  of  Bishop  Berlioz,  who  was  accom- 
panied by  his  Vicar-General,  Father  Jacquet,  and  a  wee  Japanese 
priest  with  a  straggling  beard.    MaryknoU  seemed  near. 

With  Bishop  Berlioz. 

Sendai — Get  the  name.  This  is  a  city  of  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants,  and  since  my  arrival  two  days  ago  I  have 
not  seen  an  American  or  a  European,  an  electric  car  or  an 
automobile.     We  are  in  old  Japan  and  things  are  quiet  here. 

There  are  Americans  in  the  town,  however,  even  if  I  have  not 
seen  them.  The  property  owned  and  controlled  by  various 
Protestant  societies  is  large  enough  for  a  good  university  with 
athletic  fields  and  dormitories,  and  I  am  assured  that  if  I  did 
some  fishing  I  could  find  here  a  score  and  more  of  my  compatriots. 

52 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  Catholic  churches  are  three — a  small  Cathedral  in  the 
north  end,  a  cozy  little  church  in  the  west  end,  and  at  the  south 
the  beginning  of  a  third  Mission.  The  diocese  extends  far  to 
the  north  and  has  twenty-two  priests,  with  ten  back  in  France 
toiling  as  soldiers.  The  Bishop  is  trying  to  manage  the  west 
end  parish,  where  he  plans  to  begin  a  Seminary  and  where  even 
now  he  has  one  very  promising  student.  Father  Jacquet, 
assisted  by  the  Japanese  priest  who  came  to  the  station,  acts 
as  Vicar-General  and  presides  at  the  Cathedral. 

Father  Jacquet  left  the  Paris  Foreign  Mission  Seminary  in 
1881  and  I  learn  from  the  Bishop  that  he  has  never  returned  to 
Europe  in  these  thirty-six  years.  He  is  a  quiet,  dignified  man, 
has  spent  his  patrimony  on  this  Mission,  and  is  respected  by  all 
classes  in  Sendai.  Three  days  a  week  he  teaches  French  at  the 
University,  and  his  services  are  often  sought  by  those  high 
in  authority,  but  his  zeal  for  souls  never  flags. 

The  Cathedral  compound,  like  that  of  Tokyo,  has  been 
planned  and  built  directly  under  the  supervision  of  our  priests. 

Bishop  Berlioz  occupies,  in  normal  times,  a  house  which  is 
used  for  the  priests'  retreats  and  other  purposes  and  where  all 
of  the  Cathedral  staff  dine  throughout  the  year.  Father  Jacquet 
and  the  Japanese  priest  live  in  a  separate  establishment,  and 
both  houses  are  stamped  with  the  mark  of  poverty. 

The  Bishop  had  to  walk  back  to  his  parish — about  two  miles 
— that  night  after  seeing  me  settled,  and  this  left  me  in  his  own 
palace  (!)  alone.  He  had  brought  me  to  his  room,  where  I  got 
something  of  a  start  on  discovering  that  he  slept  habitually  on 
a  mat,  but  I  was  assured  of  my  own  rest  when  I  found  a  real 
bed  in  the  chamber  adjoining. 

This  was  not  the  only  article  in  that  sumptuous  apartment, 
which  had  also  a  straw  mat,  a  table,  and  a  chest  of  drawers. 
Besides,  there  was  hidden  in  a  corner  cabinet  a  tea-kettle  full  of 
real  water,  a  tin  basin,  and  some  pink  soap,  with  a  fresh  towel 
that  looked  as  if  it  would  dry  an  ordinary  face.  There  were 
three  or  four  good  prints  on  the  rather  dingy  walls,  and  above 
the  door  the  photograph  of  some  departed  bishop  lying  in 
state.  Window  and  blinds  were  apparently  closed  for  the  season 
but  the  balcony  door  was  open  and  I  had  fresh  air  all  night. 

53 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  Cathedral  of  Sendai  has  no  benches.  As  I  entered  the 
next  morning  at  six-thirty,  I  found  a  dozen  people  squatted 
on  the  mats  and  the  Httle  Japanese  priest  making  his  thanks- 
giving. 

The  vestments  and  sacred  vessels  were  in  perfect  condition 
and  a  spirit  of  reverence  permeated  the  church.  After  Mass  I 
was  shown  an  attractive  statue  of  the  Sacred  Heart  which  "the 
good  Pere  Dunn*  of  New  York  gave  me,"  as  Bishop  Berlioz 
afterwards  explained,  and  a  monstrance  which  came  "from  a 
lady"  through  the  same  much  esteemed  source. 

When  the  Bishop  arrived  that  first  morning  we  three  went 
over  to  the  convent  school  conducted  by  the  Sisters  of  St.  Maur. 
There  are  five  Sisters  here,  including  a  Japanese,  and  the  school 
is  making  steady  progress.  The  pupils  number  several  hundred. 
Most  of  these  are  pagans  and  they  are  taught  principally  by  lay 
teachers  under  government  supervision,  but  the  Sisters  come  in 
frequent  contact  with  all  the  pupils  and  exercise  a  strong  and 
often  lasting  influence.  This  school  is  simply  constructed, 
in  Japanese  style,  and  is  well  kept.  It  is  practically  self-support- 
ing, or  will  be  so  shortly. 

There  is  no  Catholic  hospital  at  Sendai  but  the  Sisters  of 
St.  Maur  have  a  little  house  near  their  convent,  opening  into  a 
public  street  and  provided  with  the  essentials  requisite  for  a 
dispensary.  As  we  entered,  two  Japanese  girls,  suffering  from 
an  eye  disease  that  is  very  common  here,  were  on  the  mat, 
waiting  for  the  doctor  who  visits  the  little  place  every  day.  The 
coals  were  burning  in  the  brazier  so  that  the  doctor  could  on 
arrival  prepare  for  his  work  by  a  few  puffs  of  tobacco  and  a  cup 
of  tea.  Everything  was  in  its  place  and  so  cozy  that  I  felt 
almost  like  getting  sick. 

A  Pagan  Festival. 

That  day  a  young  priest  came  for  dinner — young  in  the  sense 
that  he  was  under  forty,  while  the  average  priest  to  be  found 
today  in  Japan  is  an  old  man.  He  had  been  reformed,  which 
means  that  he  was  not  found  strong  enough  to  go  to  the  war. 


•  The  Very  Rev.  Monsignor  Dunn,  Chancellor  and  Dioceean  Director  of  the  Propaga- 
tion of  the  Faith  Socieiy. 


At  the  Bishop's  well 


A  holiday  in  Sendai 


A  Japanese  government  oflicial  worshipping  his  ancestors  in  the  presence  of 

Shinto  priests 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

With  the  Bishop  and  this  priest  (Father  Montagu)  I  walked 
over  to  the  Bishop's  parish  that  afternoon  and  we  found  the 
city  in  gala  attire.  Flags  were  flying,  lanterns  were  hung,  and 
tinsel  strings  fluttered  in  the  breeze.  There  were  torii  of  ever- 
green serving  as  triumphal  arches;  everybody  had  on  his  best 
clogs;  and  the  babes  bobbing  on  the  backs  of  their  mothers 
looked  like  gorgeous  butterflies.  We  joined  the  crowd  and  were 
soon  one  of  the  chief  attractions. 

After  a  while  we  came  to  the  Amusement  Park,  where  we 
stood  for  some  moments,  observing  and  observed.  There  was 
much  action  and  little  noise.  The  beating  of  a  drum  revealed 
an  ancient  dance  in  progress,  masked  performers  taking  turns 
for  the  benefit  of  the  gaping  multitude. 

More  interesting  than  this,  however,  was  the  temporary 
establishment  of  two  shrines,  set  up  as  if  they  were  lemonade 
booths — one  for  Buddhist  worshippers,  the  other  for  those  who 
favored  the  Shinto  rites.  Two  Shinto  priests  sat  facing  each 
other,  and  every  few  moments  some  one  from  the  crowd  would 
approach,  toss  a  coin  on  the  table,  and  adore  the  spirits  of  his 
ancestors.    The  Buddhist  bonzes  were  likewise  busy. 

I  left  the  Bishop  and  Father  Montagu,  to  try  my  luck  with 
a  photograph,  and  had  I  stayed  a  little  longer  I  might  have  hurt 
the  patronage  of  the  shrines.  I  managed  to  snap  the  kodak 
and  get  through  the  circle  that  surrounded  me,  after  which  we 
continued  our  promenade  out  along  by  the  "River  of  Martyrs," 
where  Christian  blood  once  flowed,  until  we  came  to  an  alley 
that  brought  us  to  the  Mission  temporarily  occupied  by  the 
Bishop. 

The  Diocesan  Seminary. 

This  spot  has  a  large  place  in  the  Bishop's  heart  and  is  often 
the  subject  of  his  day  dreams,  for  he  has  planned  to  establish 
here  what  he  hopes  will  be  the  future  strength  of  his  diocese,  a 
Seminary  for  the  training  of  native  priests,  to  multiply  largely 
the  few  excellent  examples  which  he  at  present  has.  The 
Seminary  chapel  is  ready,  because  the  little  Mission  church  will 
do.  Two  other  buildings,  wooden,  of  course,  are  on  the  ground, 
one  a  typical  Japanese  house  where  the  Bishop  occupies  several 

55 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN  THE    ORIENT 

mats,  the  other  a  two-story  dwelling  serving  even  now  as  a 
dormitory. 

When  we  entered  there  were  several  laborers  engaged  in 
excavating,  so  as  to  prevent  further  damage  from  storms  and 
to  have  a  much  needed  road.  The  entire  contract  was  for  some- 
thing like  twenty-five  dollars,  and  when  I  saw  a  woman  toiling 
with  the  others  I  wondered  if  it  was  the  contractor's  wife. 
The  poor  thing  was  dressed  like  a  man  and  paired  off  with  a  man 
to  carry  on  her  shoulders  the  end  of  a  pole  with  its  hea\'y  weight 
of  dirt.  She  did  not,  however,  seem  to  look  for  pity.  Her 
bronzed  face,  wrinkled  and  otherwise  time-worn,  was  quite 
expressionless  and  when  the  moment  came,  as  it  did  frequently, 
for  a  smoke,  she  joined  the  men,  took  her  few  puffs  with  evident 
relish,  and  was  ready  for  the  next  load. 

A  happy  group  of  children — all  Catholics  except  one — met 
us  at  the  church  door,  and  a  little  later,  after  their  catechism 
lesson,  were  lined  up  for  a  special  ceremony  in  which  the  stranger 
was  to  play  the  part  of  Lord  Bountiful. 

The  ceremony — the  distribution  of  crackers,  fancy  and 
otherwise — took  place,  it  is  needless  to  say,  outside  the  church. 
Each  child,  even  the  baby  on  its  sister's  back,  received  with 
both  hands  the  cracker,  and  the  individual  distribution  went  on 
until  the  plate  was  empty.  The  young  seminarian  was  Master 
of  Ceremonies. 

It  will  be  a  great  blessing  to  the  diocese  of  Hakodate  when 
native  priests  become  more  numerous,  but  a  present  difficulty 
is  not  only  the  lack  of  means  but  the  lack  of  satisfactory 
subjects. 

At  this  writing  there  are  in  the  diocese  three  Japanese 
priests.  The  one  who  resides  at  the  Cathedral  has  matured  in  his 
priestly  life.  He  is  zealous,  well-informed,  a  credit  to  the  Church, 
and  a  comfort  to  his  Bishop.*  The  other  two  are  brothers,  the 
elder  ordained  about  six  years  ago,  the  other  very  recently. 
Both  are  alumni  of  the  Propaganda  in  Rome  and  give  excellent 
promise.  The  elder  I  saw  in  the  Eternal  City  when  he  was 
preparing  to  leave  for  Japan  and  we — Father  Price  and  myself 
— for  America.        It  was  a  disappointment   not   to  meet  him 


Thid  priest  has  since  died. 

56 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

again  in  his  own  country,  but  his  Mission  is  a  good  twenty-four 
hours  from  Sendai,  unless  I  were  to  take  a  small  boat,  which 
might  prove  a  much  longer  trip,  the  Bishop  warned  me.  The 
younger  I  may  meet  when  returning  to  Tokyo. 

Bishop  Berlioz  has  now  in  Rome  another  student,  the  son 
of  a  good  man  who  serves  as  a  general  manager  of  the  little 
establishment.  When  the  father  learned  of  my  interest  he  pro- 
duced a  photograph  of  his  boy,  taken  in  the  Propaganda  cassock. 

The  Bishop  will  need  some  English  books  for  his  Seminary 
library' — reference  books  particularly;  and  here,  as  well  as  at  the 
Seminary  in  Tokyo,  a  set  of  the  Catholic  Encyclopedia  would 
receive  an  especially  warm  welcome.  A  few  years  ago  Dr. 
James  J.  Walsh  of  New  York  provided  Maryknoll  with  several 
duplicate  copies  of  his  excellent  books — enough  to  supply  quite 
a  few  missioners.  Some  of  these  books  came  to  Japan — and 
have  already  accomplished  much  good.  We  at  home,  who  are 
sometimes  burdened  with  duplicates,  do  not  realize  what  a 
godsend  our  surplus  volumes  would  be  to  the  missions. 

We  returned  to  the  Cathedral  by  a  short  cut,  crossing  the 
river  over  a  rickety  bridge  about  three  feet  wide,  without  rails, 
and  with  a  toll  charge  of  a  cent  for  two.  It  was  the  Bishop's 
treat. 

A  Suhiirhan  Missioji. 

We  planned  to  see,  the  next  day,  one  of  the  marvels  of  Japan, 
the  islands  of  Matsushima,  about  half  an  hour's  railway  ride 
to  the  north;  but  the  weather  kept  us  indoors  until  late  in  the 
afternoon,  when  we  called  on  Father  Montagu  in  his  new  Mission. 

Father  Montagu  began  his  little  Mission  with  nothing  and 
nobody  except  himself.  The  Bishop  managed  to  get  him  a 
small  piece  of  ground,  on  which  he  constructed  a  Japanese 
house  with  its  kitchenette,  chamber,  and  reception  room. 
That  was  a  few  short  years  ago,  and  even  now  an  addition  of  one 
to  his  flock  is  an  event.  He  has  been  in  the  highways  and  by- 
ways of  his  neighborhood,  has  encouraged  the  children  to  use 
the  Mission  compound  for  their  play-ground,  has  held  himself 
ready  at  any  moment  to  receive  visits  from  adult  pagans,  and 
today  his  first  house  is  occupied  by  a  domestic  and  his  family, 

i.7 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    TH E    ORIENT 

while  a  new  house  of  two  stories  provides  in  the  upper  portion, 
by  shifting  partitions,  a  chapel  large  enough  for  the  congregation 
and,  below,  Hving  rooms  for  the  priest  himself. 

I  had  been  much  pleased  the  day  before  with  the  Bishop's 
little  Japanese  home,  but  Father  Montagu's  was  the  last  word  in 
neatness.  There  was  no  question  about  taking  off  our  shoes;  we 
did  it  instinctively,  as  this  dignified  clean-cut  young  priest 
waited  for  us  in  his  slippers.  The  side  of  the  house,  open  to 
the  compound,  revealed  as  we  approached  a  simple  beauty  that 
sprang  from  the  spirit  of  poverty  and  good  taste  combined, 
and  the  home  of  Jesus  on  the  second  floor  with  its  altar  of  wood — 
a  "Pere  Dunn"  gift,  as  I  recall — was  a  model  of  its  kind. 

The  children  whom  Father  Montagu  had  baptized  were 
amusing  themselves,  running  up  and  down  a  horizontal  pole 
suspended  a  foot  or  so  above  the  ground,  and  they  knew  that 
a  feast  of  crackers  was  in  sight.  These  children  come  every 
afternoon  for  their  catechism  lesson,  which  we  had  interrupted. 

A  young  man  entered  the  compound  shortly  after  our 
arrival  and  the  priest  gently  dismissed  him,  explaining  to  me 
that  the  visitor  was  getting  interested  and  had  come  to  make 
inquiries  about  the  Catholic  faith.  I  asked  what  hope  there 
was  for  a  stronger  development  of  the  little  parish  and  the 
answer  came,  "Good,  if  I  can  get  a  catechist." 

When  I  asked  if  none  could  be  procured  the  priest  smiled 
and  looked  at  the  Bishop,  his  banker.  Bishop  Berlioz  explained 
that  it  costs  much  more  now  than  formerly  to  support  a  catechist 
and  that  it  would  require  twenty-five  yen  (twelve  dollars  and 
a  half)  a  month.  I  made  a  suggestion  but  I  do  not  know  at  this 
writing  whether  it  will  be  effective  or  not. 

I  was  glad  to  have  seen  this  little  Christian  settlement,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  the  inspection  was  of  more  value  to  me 
than  would  have  been  the  excursion  which  we  lost. 

Some  Japanese  Activities. 

Had  I  the  time  I  should  have  been  tempted  to  make  another 
two-hundred-mile  jump  to  Hakodate,  if  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  see  the  work  of  theTrappists,  and  also  of  theTrappistines. 
Bishop    Berlioz   seems   especially   proud   of   the   establishment, 

5S 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

which  has  succeeded  ift  a  short  period  far  beyond  his  expecta- 
tions. Its  .vocations  among  native  men  and  women  have  been 
comparatively  numerous  and  it  is  today  self-suppofting. 

When  I  arrived  at  Yokohama  I  found  on  the  table  two  famous 
Trappistine  products  from  Hakodate,  butter  and  cheese — famous 
as  such  things  go.  The  "Grand"  hotels  and  even  some  members 
of  the  imperial  family — or  of  some  other  kingly  stock — sing  the 
praises  of  the  Trappistine  dairy,  and  what  more  can  be  asked? 

Returning  from  Father  Montagu's  home,  the  Bishop  intro- 
duced me  to  two  of  his  "best  families."  Each  kept  a  store: 
one  a  cracker  and  cookie  factory,  the  other  a  Wanamaker 
establishment  on  a  small  scale.  From  the  baker's  family  had 
come  the  two  young  Japanese  priests  mentioned  above.  The 
experience  of  these  visits  was  pleasant  and  I  left  with  a  feeling, 
confirmed  by  the  Bishop's  tribute,  that  there  were  people  truly 
sincere,  honest,  intelligent,  and  full  of  faith. 

I  took  occasion  of  my  visit  to  the  department  store  to  make 
a  few  necessary  purchases,  which  included  a  five-cent  mirror  as 
I  had  not  seen  my  face  for  a  week.  That  evening  a  messenger 
from  the  store  brought  for  the  visitor  a  special  gift,  two  pairs 
of  excellent  socks,  which  will  make  me  feel  quite  respectable 
when  I  have  to  appear  shoeless  in  public  again. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Bishop's  house  we  learned  that  one 
of  the  former  daimios  had  passed  us  in  a  rickshaw  and  had  dis- 
mounted to  salute  Father  Jacquet,  who  seems  to  be  popular 
with  all  classes.  When  he  goes  out  into  the  narrow  streets  the 
children  double  up  and  say,  "Jacky-San,'"  which  suggests  some- 
thing like  "Lord  Jacquet." 

Friday  morning  gave  us  clear  weather  for  a  change,  but  we 
had  only  the  morning  left,  so  I  suggested  that  this  would  be  a 
convenient  time  for  a  pending  operation  and  the  Bishop  accom- 
panied me  to  a  barber  who  cuts  the  precious  hairs  of  American 
and  English  residents.  The  operation  usually  means  in  Japan 
a  long  holiday  for  the  subject,  but  the  Bishop  japped  that  I 
had  only  twenty  minutes  to  spare  and  the  whole  family  got  busy. 

The  cutting  was  followed  by  graceful  and  rapid  strokes  of 
the  brush,  the  artist  striking  an  attitude  occasionally  and  listening 
as  if  to  assure  himself  that  my  head  was  really  empty.    Just  as 

59 


OBSERVATI ONS    I N   THE    ORIENT 

all  kinds  of  lotions  came  into  view,  I  borrowed  the  brush,  patted 
the  pate,  bowed  to  the  Bishop,  paid  my  ten  cents  and  said 
*'Sayonara,"  which  means  "Good-bye",  ' 

Speaking  of  hair-cuts,  we  passed  several  bonzes  (Buddhist 
priests)  that  day.  These  gentlemen  have  their  heads  shaven  and 
carry  beads  in  their  hands.  Some  of  the  bonzes  are  mendicant 
and  go  about  two  by  two  seeking  alms.  There  is  a  large  school 
at  Sendai  for  the  training  of  youths  destined  to  be  bonzes. 

I  was  pleased  to  learn  from  Bishop  Berlioz  that  quite  a  few 
Japanese  bonzes  had  embraced  the  Faith  and  had  made  excellent 
converts.  Among  them  were  some  whose  sacrifice  was  consider- 
able. Habitually  these  men  are  zealous  in  making  known  the 
fact  that  they  have  passed  from  the  superstitions  of  Buddhism 
into  the  clear  light  of  Jesus  Christ. 

We  filled  out  the  morning  with  a  visit  to  the  Exposition 
of  Home  Industries,  and  soon  after  lunch  it  was  time  to  leave  for 
Fukushima,  where  I  should  meet  Father  Deffrennes,  one  of 
Maryknoll's  correspondents. 

The  priests  came  to  the  station  and  Bishop  Berlioz  accom- 
panied me  on  the  train  as  far  as  a  place  called  Ogawara,  where 
we  expected  to  find  the  younger  of  the  two  Japanese  priest- 
brothers.  He  was  not  there,  but  I  afterwards  learned  from  the 
Bishop  that  an  expected  funeral  service  had  occasioned  this 
disappointment  and  that  the  Bishop  himself  took  part  in  the 
function,  which  lasted  for  several  hours. 


60 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  V 

A    TOUR    THROUGH    THE    DIOCESES 

ATE  that  afternoon  we  reached  Fukushima.  Father 
Deffrennes  was  at  the  station  with  a  bicycle  built 
for  one,  and  as  his  church  is  outside  the  town 
I  backed  into  a  rickshaw,  and  in  about  fifteen 
minutes  found  myself  on  a  commanding  height 
overlooking  not  only  the  town  but  a  very  attractive 
country  beyond. 
This  church,  another  New  York  contribution,  is  built  of  wood 
and  is  not  so  large  as  it  appears  from  a  distance.  It  is  approached 
by  a  long  flight  of  solid  steps  that  look  like  the  entrance  to  a 
temple  and  must  impress  the  heathen  worshippers  who  pass  it 
to  make  their  supplications  at  a  great  shrine  not  many  hundred 
feet  in  the  rear. 

The  catechism  class  was  awaiting  Father  DefTrennes'  return 
and  I  had  to  pose  as  an  intelligent  examiner.  There  were  five 
boys  and  five  girls,  all  of  whom  passed  so  far  as  my  marks  went, 
and  I  gave  to  each  a  faded  cracker.  During  the  examination 
those  children  who  had  not  been  heard  recited  their  lessons 
aloud  by  themselves  and  the  sound  was  not  soothing.  This 
catechism  lesson  is  given  daily,  and  on  Sunday  at  the  close  of 
Mass  everybody — man,  woman,  or  child — in  the  congregation 
is  subject  to  a  catechism  call. 

The  little  Mission  counts  only  forty-seven  Christians,  of 
whom  twenty  are  the  parents  and  twenty-seven  the  children. 
Away  from  the  town  in  scattered  settlements  there  are  a  few 
more.    "Not  much  of  a  parish,"  you  say. 

No — and  yet  in  such  a  parish  a  priest  here  finds  his  day  filled 
with  labor  and  his  hours  passing  rapidly.  Fortunately  these 
men  do  not  count  results  by  figures.  They  are  preparing  a 
barren  soil,  fertilizing  it  with  their  prayers,  their  sacrifices,  and 
their  good  works,  and  every  soul  gained  is  to  them  something 
more  precious  than  all  the  gold  on  this  earth. 

An  Evening  with  a  Missioner. 

It  grew  dark  soon  after  the  children  left  and  Father  Deffrennes 
lighted  his  one  lamp.    The  house  is  an  up-and-down  afTair  built 

61 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

* 

on  the  steep  hillside,  so  that  from  the  third  story  one  can  walk 
out  directly  to  the  church.  It  was  poorly  furnished,  and  the  only 
suggestions  of  indulgence  were  a  harmonium  and  a  pipe.  ,  Father 
Deffrennes  enjoys  both  as  means  of  relaxation. 

The  Angelus  bell  summoned  us  to  prayer  and  dinner,  and  by 
the  aid  of  the  lamp  and  a  steep  stairway  we  reached  the  dining- 
room,  a  dingy  one.  An  elderly  Japanese  woman  whose  smile 
was  exceeded  only  by  her  curiosity  waited  on  us.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  she  was  also  the  cook,  which  made  the  situation 
more  acute. 

Each  of  us  had  set  before  him  a  tray  with  five  small  covered 
dishes — and  a  pair  of  chopsticks.  I  gasped.  It  was  up  to  me, 
however,  and  I  chop-stuck  it  out,  but  when  it  came  to  a  dish  of 
raw  fish,  after  I  had  eaten  samples  of  two  other  kinds  of  sea- 
food (this  was  Friday),  I  remonstrated.  At  the  close  of  the  chop- 
stick  exercise  the  trays  were  removed  and  fruit  was  served  with 
a  real  knife.  Father  Deffrennes  takes  his  meals  in  Japanese 
fashion  at  least  once  a  week. 

When  the  missioner's  pipe  was  filled  we  sauntered  out, 
down  into  the  narrow  streets  to  visit  a  Christian  family.  It 
was  once  a  very  common  form  of  propaganda.  Father  Deffrennes 
told  me,  to  hold  conferences  in  individual  houses,  as  people 
were  curious  to  hear  about  the  Christian  religion,  and  he  had 
spent  many  an  evening  in  this  way.  He  added,  however,  that 
our  separated  brethren  had  talked  so  much  on  the  street  corners 
that  conferences  had  become  less  popular. 

Several  Protestant  sects  occupy  this  town  of  Fukushima. 
All  are  within  the  precincts  of  the  town  and  are  well  backed  by 
the  home  treasuries.  I  could  not  but  compare  the  appar- 
ently lonesome  life  of  my  companion  with  that  of  the  average 
Protestant  missionary,  but  I  am  certain  that  if  the  compari- 
son ever  occurred  to  him  he  would  not  be  disturbed  ever 
so  little. 

As  we  reached  the  centre  of  the  town  I  heard  the  music  of  a 
band.  The  sound  came  from  a  circus,  and  it  seemed  like  a 
dream  when  I  recognized  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,  but  if  the 
composer  of  that  classical  song  could  have  heard  it  under  the 
same  circumstances  he  would  surely  have  died  earlier. 

62 


o 
o 
o 

-q 
H 


— 

ffi 

OJ 

f/7 

:s 

U3 

(D 

Ui 

E^ 

D 

Pi^ 

H 

< 

o 
*t75 


OBSERVAT I ONS    I  N    THE    ORIENT 

We  turned  into  an  alley,  passed  several  stores  until  we  reached 
a  tailoring  establishment,  and  were  about  to  settle  down  to  a 
chat,  when  a  customer  arrived  and  we  sauntered  along  to  the 
home  of  the  town  photographer,  whose  father  was  the  first 
Christian  in  Fukushima.  It  was  here  that  I  had  the  honor  of 
meeting  Maria  Hishikura,  the  photographer's  little  daughter, 
who  would  not  deign  to  speak  to  me  but  who  may  yet  be  a 
Teresian  of  Maryknoll.  On  that  occasion  we  were  served  with 
some  not  unpalatable  brown  paste,  cut  in  squares  and  easily 
carried  to  its  destination  by  two  chopsticks. 

As  we  passed  the  circus  on  our  way  home  the  band  was 
playing  "A  Bicycle  Built  for  Two,"  and  little  babies  were  bobbing 
on  the  backs  of  their  elders  in  and  out  of  the  entrance. 

By  pushing  screens  that  night  I  opened  the  side  of  the 
house  and  slept  in|  a  room  furnished — with  air  and  not 
much  else. 

Our  Masses  were  served  the  next  morning  by  the  cook's 
own  and  only  boy,  whose  bare  feet  were  not  too  clean.  After 
making  an  attempt  under  clouds  to  get  a  few  photographic 
souvenirs  of  Fukushima  and  its  attractive  surroundings  I 
backed  again  into  the  ricky,  while  Father  Deffrennes  took  his 
bicycle,  and  we  made  for  the  Tokyo  train  which,  like  most  of 
the  Japanese  trains,  was  on  time. 

A  Veteran  of  the  Missions. 

I  was  due  to  say  the  late  Mass  (nine-thirty)  and  preach  at 
Father  Tulpin's  church,  which  is  attended  by  the  Europeans 
and  Americans  resident  in  the  capital. 

Father  Tulpin  has  been  forty-two  years  in  Japan.  When, 
shortly  after  my  arrival,  I  asked  if  he  had  returned  to  France  at 
any  time,  he  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  in  surprise  and  said, 
"Why?  When  I  left  the  Paris  Seminary  it  was  for  life."  This 
venerable  missioner  came  to  Japan  with  the  late  Archbishop 
Osouf  of  Tokyo  and  founded  all  of  the  first  missions  in  the  north 
long  before  railroads  were  thought  of  for  that  section.  He  is 
portly,  with  the  long,  white  beard  characteristic  of  the  old 
French  missioners,  and  wears  a  scull  cap  of  faded  velvet  with  a 
tassel  swinging  towards  the  back  of  his  neck. 

63 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  found  him  receiving  his  parishioners  in  a  room  that  looked 
out  upon  a  pretty  Httle  garden.  A  few  touches  would  make  some 
of  these  mission  rectories  charming,  but  it  is  by  scraping  and 
saving  the  nickels  allowed  for  personal  use  that  many  have  been 
able  to  provide  for  what  they  rightly  considered  more  necessary. 
Father  Tulpin's  reception  room  is,  however,  quite  presentable, 
and  many  distinguished  persons  who  never  see  his  black  oil- 
cloth table-cover  find  their  way  there.  I  heard  the  names  and 
titles  of  several,  including  Japanese  Catholics  high  in  the  imperial 
service  and  European  ofificials  of  note,  but  I  failed  to  impress 
them  on  my  memory. 

The  church,  a  new  one,  is  very  attractive  outside  and  very 
neat  within.  The  sacristy  is  well  appointed,  the  sacristan  and 
sanctuary  boys  all  that  could  be  desired,  and  the  congregation, 
made  up  of  Europeans  and  Japanese,  devout  as  well  as  consider- 
able. 

After  Mass  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  Catechism  Hall,  but  was 
called  away  by  Father  Tulpin  for  a  very  important  function, 
my  first  baptism  in  the  foreign  missions.  The  subject  was 
Elizabeth  Fujii  Sumiko,  whose  address  I  note  for  future  reference 
in  correspondence  with  the  Teresians  is: 

Ebara  gori  Shinmachi 

Fujii  Noritami, 

Tokyo,  Japan. 

Everybody  concerned  was  pleased  with  the  ceremony — 
except  the  child,  who  appeared  indifferent,  but  her  appreciation 
is  expected  to  mature  in  time. 

Father  Tulpin  is  hopeful  for  the  future  of  Catholicity  in 
Japan,  the  country  to  which  he  has  given  his  heart  and  every- 
thing else.  He  has  one  special  ambition  and  that  is  to  see  started 
before  he  dies  a  home  for  old  people.  He  says  that  if  he  could 
get  together  five  or  six  thousand  dollars  he  could  realize  his 
desire,  but — que  voulez  vous?  As  he  told  me  this,  his  hands  opened 
and  a  sigh  escaped  him,  and  if  I  had  had  some  millionaire's 
check  book  before  me  at  the  time — with  the  necessary  signature, 
of  course — Father  Tulpin  could  have  chanted  his  Nunc  Dimittis 
then  and  there. 

64 


I.    Maria  Hishikura,  the  photographer's  daughter 
The  sacristan's  children  at  Yokohama.     3.  MaryknoU's  first-baptized  in  the  Far-East 
SOME   OF   THE   TREASURES   OF   JAPAN 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Catholic  Young  Men's  Association. 

Three  young  Japanese  students  called  at  two  o'clock  to 
take  me  again  to  the  Marianist  Brothers,  where  I  was  booked  for 
an  address  to  the  Catholic  Young  Men's  Association,  founded 
by  Mr.  Yamamoto,  a  well-known  layman  of  the  Cathedral 
parish. 

One  of  the  three  spoke  English  fairly  well  and  the  others 
were  good  listeners.  We  changed  cars  several  times  on  the  way 
and  never  failed  to  provide  an  exhibition  for  those  who  were 
near  enough  to  take  our  measure. 

At  the  school  the  Marianist  Brothers,  as  usual,  extended 
a  cordial  welcome.  On  our  way  to  the  hall  leaflets  were  handed 
to  us  with  the  Society's  Rules,  printed  in  Japanese.  I  have  not  yet 
seen  the  translation  of  the  rules  but  I  was  glad  of  the  opportunity 
to  tell  these  young  men,  who  understood  English  substantially, 
something  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  America  and  of  the  Mary- 
knoll  hopefuls. 

The  Marianist  Provincial,  Father  Heinrich,  and  several 
others  of  the  community,  including  Father  Heck,  professor  of 
French  history  at  the  Imperial  University,  were  present. 
Father  MacNeil,  S.  J.,  also  an  American,  came  over  from  the 
Jesuit  University  that  afternoon,  and  we  had  a  short  reunion 
following  the  conference. 

Afterwards  Father  Heck,  Mr.  Yamamoto,  Mr.  Ito,  and  I 
walked  to  the  well-appointed  parish  church  in  charge  of  Father 
Cherel,  whose  uncle  is  a  priest  in  the  United  States.  In  the 
neighboring  convent  I  discovered  an  Irish  nun.  Sister  Elizabeth 
Cormack,  who,  although  her  name  was  shorn  of  the  prefix  that 
suggested  nobility,  could  hardly  stop  talking  about  Ireland 
except  to  tell  me  how  much  she  liked  The  Field  Afar  and 
everything  about  Maryknoll.  I  told  her  five  times  that  I 
was  not  born  in  Ireland,  but  she  never  once  heard  me  and 
to  this  moment  she  believes  that  I  am  a  son  rather  than 
a  grandchild  of  Erin. 

I  have  often  thought  of  these  isolated  Irish  nuns  who  live 
in  foreign  lands  with  sisters  whose  native  tongue  is  not  theirs. 
How  wonderful  is  the  faith  that  binds  and  the  Christ-love  that 
sustains  these  consecrated  women! 

65 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

On  our  way  to  the  Cathedral,  Mr.  Yamamoto  took 
Father  Heck  and  myself  to  his  own  house  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  a 
glimpse  of  Japanese  home  life,  which  I  enjoyed. 

I  was  due  at  the  Cathedral  to  meet  some  priests  of  the  diocese 
who  were  coming  for  their  annual  retreat,  and  when  the  evening 
meal  was  over  I  said  good-bye  to  Tokyo,  to  its  Archbishop,  and 
to  my  other  kind  friends  of  the  Paris  Society. 

To  Nagasaki. 

My  destination  was  Kyoto.  After  a  stop-over  of  a  day  at 
Yokohama,  I  found  a  place  in  the  train  and  settled  down  on  the 
long  bench  for  a  twelve-hour  ride,  while  the  car  filled  until  there 
was  room  for  no  more. 

Opposite  me  was  a  prim-looking  Chinese  girl  whose  father 
had  deposited  her  carefully  on  the  train  at  Yokohama  and  who, 
so  far  as  I  could  observe,  never  budged  for  twelve  long  hours. 
I  wondered  if  she  was  an  example  of  Chinese  patience.  She 
certainly  seemed  to  be  an  unspoiled  child  although  she  wore 
gold  rings  on  six  fingers  and  a  wrist  watch  besides. 

The  conductor,  accompanied  by  a  train  boy,  entered  soon 
after  our  start.  I  mention  this  because  I  wish  to  say  that  these 
individuals  are,  without  exception,  the  most  polite  of  their 
tribe  that  I  ever  met.  The  Japanese  conductor  almost  cracks  his 
backbone  as  he  inspects  each  ticket  and  returns  it  to  its  owner. 
He  makes  one  feel  as  if  one  were  a  benefactor  of  the  railroad 
company  (an imperial  affair  in  this  land),  rather  than  an  intruder. 

The  country  was  green  and  fresh.  Every  foot  of  it  seemed 
to  be  under  cultivation  and  the  Japanese  cottages,  with  their 
thatched  roofs  neatly  trimmed  and  ridged  with  grass,  looked 
homey.  Here  and  there  along  the  route  I  could  distinguish  a 
waterfall  or  streams  turning  great  wheels  for  little  industries, 
and  as  we  neared  the  so-called  "sacred"  mountain  of  Fuji,  I 
caught  some  idea  of  the  surrounding  landscape  even  though  this 
rocky  "divinity"  did  not  condescend  to  show  his  head  through 
the  mists. 

Some  of  the  sleeping  passengers  awoke  about  this  time  and 
shifted  their  positions  to  get  the  mountain  view,  but  it  was  quite 
useless  and  they  consoled  themselves  at  the  next  stop  by  storing 

66 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


away  the  contents  of  twin  white  boxes,  one  of  which  was  full 
of  rice,  the  other  of  fishes  with  odds  and  ends.  A  man  and  his 
amiable  looking  wife  who  squatted  on  the  bench  next  to  the 
Chinese  girl  enjoyed,  between  naps,  the  contents  of  a  good 
half-dozen  of  these  boxes  during  the  trip. 

She  was  a  real  housekeeper  and  he  was  a  petted  husband. 
She  made  the  purchases  through  the  open  window  and  he  fur- 
nished the  coin.  She  opened  the  boxes  and  he  had  the  first 
innings  with  the  chopsticks.  Once  or  twice  the  boxes  disclosed 
undissected  raw  fish,  which  she  cut  with  a  little  knife  that  usually 
rested  in  the  depths  of  her  sleeve.  He,  silent  and  solemn,  but 
always  receptive,  ate  the  precious  morsels  from  the  box  cover 
which  she  had  deftly  used  as  a  carving  board.  She  managed 
to  get  the  chopsticks  after  he  had  finished  with  his  tea — a  usual 
part  of  the  purchase — and  as  he  was  careful  not  to  drink  it  all 
there  was  enough  tea  left  for  the  cleansing  of  the  sticks,  which 
meant  the  fag-end  of  a  meal  for  her  poor  self. 

Things  seem  small  in  this  country  and  in  reality  are  often  so. 
One  notices  the  stature  of  the  people,  their  feet  and  features, 
their  piping  voices,  their  wee  ways.  Chairs  used  in  public 
places  would  fit  into  a  nursery  at  home,  and  an  average  sized 
man  like  myself  sometimes  feels  big;  but  I  had  a  surprise  when, 
at  one  station,  a  form  that  filled  the  doorway  and  had  to  duck 
to  get  in  turned  out  to  be  a  Japanese  giant.  His  nationality 
was  evident  and  his  mantle  confirmed  it.  He  carried  a  very 
thick  cane  and  when  he  left  at  the  next  station  everybody 
looked  relieved.  He  was,  however,  a  curiosity,  and  exclamations 
of  wonderment  were  many. 

The  earth  gets  smaller  every  day  and  even  in  this  remote 
land  one  stumbles  on  friends  oftener  than  in  New  York  I 
really  believe.  On  the  Pacific  liner  I  found  friends  and  the  friends 
of  friends.  At  Yokohama  and  Tokyo  others  turned  up,  and  on 
this  run  to  Kyoto  I  found,  after  a  while,  that  I  was  not  altogether 
among  strangers.  While  taking  a  few  turns  in  some  remote 
station  platform,  a  member  of  the  Catholic  Young  Men's 
Association  of  Tokyo  presented  himself  and  later  aided  me  at 
Kyoto.  On  that  train,  too,  were  two  friends,  a  recently  married 
couple. 

67 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

At  the  Old  Capital. 

Kyoto,  the  old  capital  of  Japan,  was  reached  about  eight 
o'clock  and  my  young  Japanese  friend  saw  me  tucked  into  a 
rickshaw  and  assured  that  I  would  be  taken  directly  to  the 
Tenshiido,  as  the  Catholic  church  is  known  in  Japan — 
Tenshudo  meaning  literally  Temple  of  the  Lord  of  Heaven. 

Father  Aurientis  was  not  expecting  me  that  evening  and  was 
someAvhat  surprised  when  the  rickshaw  dumped  me  onto  his 
threshold,  but  he  made  a  quick  recovery  and  welcomed  me  to 
his  home,  which,  though  poorly  furnished  and  rather  dingy,  is 
a  very  interesting  one.  I  should  like  to  have  seen  more  of  it  and 
of  its  sole  occupant. 

The  waiting-room  is  also  the  study  and  office  of  this  venerable 
priest,  the  Vicar-General  of  Osaka,  who  has  been  forty-one  years 
in  Japan  without  once  returning  to  his  native  land.  Here  Father 
Aurientis  receives  all  kinds  of  visitors,  including  some  of  the 
high  and  mighty,  because,  you  should  know,  the  Vicar-General  of 
Osaka  is  also  a  professor  at  the  Imperial  University  of  Tokyo, 
an  occupation  which  has  helped  his  Mission  in  more  ways  than 
one.  He  knows  some  English,  too,  which  he  learned  by  teaching 
it,  not,  however,  at  the  Imperial  University,  where  he  is  engaged 
as  professor  of  French  literature. 

His  early  experiences  were  extremely  interesting  and  I 
urged  him  to  make  them  known.  It  is  a  pity  that  no  summarized 
chronicle  has  been  kept  of  the  splendid  efforts  made  by  Catholic 
missioners  in  Japan  since  it  opened  its  doors  to  the  West. 
Father  Aurientis  told,  for  example,  how  after  being  refused 
shelter  in  one  place  he  managed  to  start  a  post  by  rolling  a 
cigarette.  Perhaps  the  Devil's  Advocate  would  like  to  get  hold 
of  this  statement,  but  some  of  the  modern  martyrs  took  more 
than  one  whiff  of  smoke  while  they  lived  and  I  know  some  living 
saints  who  take  an  occasional  one. 

When  bed-time  came  I  was  shown  to  a  large  room  that 
opened  out  on  a  corridor  lined  with  windows.  Two  sides  of  the 
room  were  walled  with  sliding  doors  of  glass,  and  as  there  were 
no  shades  I  felt  as  if  I  were  going  to  sleep  in  a  conservatory. 
An  electric  light  made  me  conscious  of  the  fact  that  my  room 
was  open  to  the  world,  and  I  imagined  that  I  could  already  be 

68 


.^  w 

1        < 

1     1^ 

u— t 
-,1 

5 

J— t 


Pi 


C/3 


^ 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

seen  by  a  thousand  eyes,  because  the  church  stands  in  the  midst 
of  narrow  streets  Hke  alleys,  crowded  with  dwellings,  but  my 
host  reassured  me. 

I  learned  that  I  was  in  the  house  of  an  ancient  daimyo.  His 
seal  was  evident  here  and  there  in  the  woodwork  trimmings, 
and  his  garden,  of  which  I  caught  a  glimpse  in  the  mist  next 
morning,  was  delightful,  with  its  miniature  bridges,  its  odd 
trees,  its  lanterns,  and  crooked  v/alks.  There  is  certainly  a 
surprise  at  every  turn  in  the  Far  East. 

The  Yokohama-Kyoto  ride  had  been  rather  tiresome,  and 
after  my  head  and  the  bag  of  sand  that  served  me  as  a  pillow 
came  into  agreement,  I  slept  well  at  Kyoto. 

Father  Aurientis  took  me,  next  morning,  to  the  convent,  to  a 
small  establishment  where  cloisonne  (a  Japanese  enamel)  is 
quite  perfectly  produced,  and  to  one  of  the  great  temples  of 
Kyoto;  after  which  we  both  took  a  train  for  Osaka  where  we 
arrived  in  time  for  the  evening  meal. 

Where  Bishop  Chatron  Lived. 

A  feeling  akin  to  loneliness  came  over  me  as  we  left  the 
railway  station  and  drove  through  the  streets  of  Osaka.  This 
was  the  city  where  Bishop  Chatron  lived — the  "little  Bishop" 
as  we  knew  him  in  the  States,  who  wrote  frequently  to  his  friends, 
always  in  a  quaint  style,  and  whom  we,  who  were  in  a  position 
to  do  so,  were  always  glad  to  help.  He  died  a  few  months  ago, 
after  an  operation  that  resulted  in  blood  poisoning. 

Osaka  is  full  of  canals  and  is  known  as  the  Venice  of  Japan, 
but  I  must  warn  any  sentimental  readers  not  to  envy  those  who 
pass  their  lives  looking  out  upon  these  waters. 

We  twisted  and  turned  on  the  narrow  streets  and  over  the 
bridges.  I  could  hear  Father  Aurientis  chaffing  his  driver, 
who,  as  it  was  explained  to  me,  complained  of  his  passenger's 
weight — about  two  hundred  and  twenty  pounds — while  my 
good-natured  host  claimed  that  the  weight  was  all  in  the 
rickshaw  itself.  These  rickshaw  men  have  an  advantage  over 
horses  in  the  matter  of  complaints. 

One  more  bridge,  and  voila — the  Cathedral  of  Osaka,  along 
the  bank  of  the  canal  and  facing  another  alley.    The  pastor,  a 

69 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Japanese  priest,  was  there  to  meet  us  although  he  had  not  re- 
ceived our  message.  He  is  small  and  thin,  with  a  beard  that  is 
correspondingly  meagre  and  gray,  but  he  has  a  good  head,  a 
large  heart  and  a  ready  smile,  and  I  enjoyed  him. 

The  house  felt,  as  it  looked,  bare  and  dusty.  The  guest 
chamber  was  the  piece  de  resistance — and  I  did  not  resist.  It 
had  been  occupied  by  many  prelates,  including  Monsignor 
Petrelli,  Apostolic  Delegate,  who  was  present  for  Bishop  Cha- 
tron's  obsequies,  and  it  was  good  enough  for  me.  It  opened  out 
on  to  the  canal  and  had  an  electric  light  bulb  arranged  to  slide 
on  a  string.  It  had  a  bed,  a  chair,  a  desk  and  some  books. 
What  more  could  any  man  want? 

I  enjoyed  much  my  rest  that  night,  but  before  taking  it 
we  made  a  survey  of  the  late  Bishop's  apartments.  He  had  two 
rooms,  both  looking  out  on  the  canal,  and  both  were  lined 
with  tools  of  every  description.  Let  the  truth  be  told  then, 
that  this  little  Bishop  whose  letters  to  America  kept  his  priests 
from  starving,  was  a  tinker — a  first-class  tinker,  and  if  it  had  not 
been  for  a  shabby  desk  and  a  poor  wooden  bed  in  one  corner  of 
the  inner  rooms,  the  episcopal  apartments  at  Osaka  could 
readily  have  been  taken  for  a  machine  shop. 

At  dinner  that  evening  I  met  the  assistant,  also  a  Japanese 
priest;  and  two  Japanese  boys,  sons  of  the  domestic,  waited  on 
us,  evidently  curious  to  know  where  one  like  myself  fitted. 

Osaka  is  a  large  city  (1,396,000  inhabitants)  and  has  doubt- 
less much  in  it  chat  would  interest  a  stranger,  but  we  had  on  our 
program  only  two  places  to  see  and  these  were  Bishop  Chatron's 
grave  and  the  Morning  Star  School  conducted  by  the  Brothers 
of  Mary. 

Time  was  at  a  premium  and  the  distances  long,  so  we  decided 
to  make  the  excursion  in  an  automobile.  It  was  a  great  event 
for  everybody  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  church  when  the 
stately  Ford-limousine  drew  up  and  we  three — Osaka's  V.  G., 
the  parish  priest,  who  fortunately  was  small,  and  the  American — 
entered.  How  the  Ford  ever  got  through  those  crowded  alleys 
is  still  a  mystery  to  me,  but  finally  we  came  to  the  more  sparsely 
settled  district,  passing,  near  the  cemetery,  a  picturesque  funeral 
procession  that  bore  some  pagan's  corpse. 

70 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

Bishop  Chatron  is  buried  in  the  European  cemetery,  a  plot 
of  ground  set  aside  exclusively  for  foreigners,  where  lots  may 
be  purchased,  but  only  for  those  who  have  been  living  here. 
A  simple  stone  has  been  placed  over  the  grave  of  Bishop  Chatron, 
with  an  inscription  engraved  in  seven  Japanese  characters, 
which,  translated,  read: 

STuliuff 

Cftatron 

Horb 

tKomb 

Another  Flourishing  School. 

From  the  cemetery  we  went  to  the  Marianist  Brothers' 
school,  stopping  on  the  way  to  pick  up  a  young  priest  who  seemed 
delicate  and  was  about  to  go  to  the  Fathers  at  Hakodate  for  a 
rest.  The  Brothers'  school  is  well  situated,  although  practically 
surrounded  with  temples  and  the  residences  of  bonzes.  With 
the  Ford  we  managed  to  get  quite  near,  but  there  is  no  complete 
approach  for  a  four-wheeled  vehicle. 

Japanese  and  English  are  the  languages  of  the  house  and 
Father  Nicholas  Walter,  a  born  American,  knows  both  very  well, 
though  he  says  that  Japanese  is  harder  to  learn  than  any  five 
languages  put  together.  An  American  layman,  speaking  of 
the  Japanese  themselves,  said  to  me  the  other  day:  "When  I 
had  been  here  two  years  I  felt  that  I  understood  the  Japanese, 
but  now  the  longer  I  stay  the  harder  it  is  for  me  to  make  them 
out."  Perhaps  it  is  so  with  the  language.  In  any  event  I  was 
glad  to  have  a  talk  with  Father  Walter  and  to  be  confident  that 
each  of  us  understood  the  other  even  to  the  shadings. 

On  this  occasion  the  boys  gave  an  exhibition  drill  under  the 
supervision  of  two  retired  army  officers  whose  commands  were 
uttered  in  shrill  tones  that  were  quite  effective.  After  they 
had  retired  to  the  class-rooms  Father  Walter  conducted  a  class  in 
history  which  I  was  interested  to  attend. 

71 


OBSERVAT I  ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

A  Field  Afar  Subscriber  in  Kobe. 

Kobe  is  a  short  run,  only  a  few  hours,  from  Osaka.  I  ran 
my  chances  of  finding  Father  Fage  in  the  city,  because  he  is 
the  Procurator  of  the  diocese,  as  well  as  pastor  of  the  European 
and  American  Catholics  resident  there.  The  rickshaw  man  who 
pulled  m.e  to  the  Tenshudo  could  actually  have  dumped  me  into 
the  arms  of  my  host,  for  I  met  him  on  the  sidewalk  outside.  He 
was  concerned  because  I  had  not  warned  him — not  that  his 
larder  was  empty,  but  because  an  unsophisticated  American 
traveler  had  arrived  alone. 

As  I  was  tired  of  sitting  we  paid  the  horseman  his  fifteen 
cents,  put  my  belongings  in  the  house,  and  started  for  a  walk. 
Father  Fage  was  on  his  way  to  visit  a  sick  person,  and  I  had 
intended  to  accompany  him,  but  we  had  hardly  turned  the  corner 
when  an  elderly  gentleman  joined  us.  Father  Fage,  who  knows 
English  and  preaches  every  Sunday  to  his  English-speaking 
congregation,  presented  his  friend  and,  as  I  recognized  the  name, 
the  newcomer  with  a  sweep  of  his  finger  threw  a  gray -whiskered 
curtain  aside  and  disclosed — the  Maryknoll  Pin! 

I  shook  hands  twice  with  this  Field  Afar  subscriber  and  ac- 
cepted his  invitation  to  turn  into  the  next  street  so  as  to  in- 
spect his  household.  It  was  an  interesting  experience.  This 
man  was  born  in  New  York,  but  had  spent  much  of 
his  life  in  the  Orient.  He  married  a  Japanese  in  China 
and  his  home,  small  but  attractive,  and  evidently  Catholic, 
is  typically  Japanese. 

At  the  door  he  introduced  his  wife,  who  was  taking  care  of 
their  grandchild — and  before  stepping  on  the  well-kept  floor 
he  found  for  me  a  pair  of  knitted  slippers  that  fitted  over  my 
shoes.  As  he  kicked  off  his  own  shoes  he  apologized  for  the 
trouble  he  was  giving  me  and  laid  it  all  to  Japanese  custom, 
which,  on  the  whole,  he  admitted  he  had  learned  to  like.  He 
showed  me  the  house  and  his  treasures — photographs  of  his 
family  and  of  old  friends — told  me  his  life-story,  and  gave 
good  testimony  of  the  faith  that  was  persevering  to  the  end — 
the  great  gift. 

On  his  return  home  Father  Fage  found  me  in  possession  of 
the  rectory,  and  I  enjoyed  much  my  stay  at  Kobe.    While  there 

72 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

we  visited  the  Japanese  Church,  a  good-sized  edifice,  quite  new, 
in  charge  of  one  of  Father  Page's  confreres,  Father  Perrin. 

As  Procurator,  Father  Page  has  to  buy  all  kinds  of  supplies 
for  missioners  in  the  interior,  and  as  some  of  these  good  men 
are  temperamentally  opposed  to  making  purchases  even  of  small 
things,  his  position  is  at  times  difficult.  Bishop  Chatron  held 
this  post  for  several  years  and  went  from  Kobe  to  Osaka. 

There  is  at  Kobe  a  school  for  European  and  American  girls, 
conducted  by  French  nuns  (Sisters  of  the  Holy  Infant  Jesus), 
who,  a  few  years  ago,  purchased  a  very  attractive  residence 
quite  in  the  heart  of  the  city. 

I  saw  Kobe  and  its  harbor  in  a  mist,  but  sufficiently  well  to 
realize  that  with  its  back-ground  of  hills  it  must  be  a  rather 
pleasant  haven  for  foreigners  whose  business  keeps  them  in 
Japan.  I  left  friends  there — newly  married — and  they  were 
just  settling  down  in  a  European  house  with  many  possibilities. 

A  Friend  in  Need. 

From  Kobe  to  Nagasaki  was  to  be  the  next  jump,  and  a 
rather  long  one — a  night  and  a  day.  We  attempted  to  negotiate 
for  a  berth  in  the  sleeping  car,  in  which  transaction  Father  Page 
and  the  station  agent  had  long  mysterious  conversations  in 
Japanese.  These  conversations  were  conducted  twice  in  the 
course  of  the  day.  A  telegram  had  to  be  sent  to  Tokyo,  I  was 
told,  and  later  we  learned  that  no  telegram  had  been  received 
in  reply,  but  assurance  was  given  that  I  would  get  a  berth.  At 
the  close  of  each  interview  the  very  serious  period  ended  with  a 
smile  from  the  railroad  official,  which  was  explained  when  Father 
Page  said  that  he  warned  the  man  to  look  out  for  a  broken  head 
in  case  I  did  not  get  accommodation. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  the  train  came  in  from  Tokyo 
nothing  had  been  reserved.  Father  Page  left  Father  Perrin  and 
myself  and  made  a  dive  for  the  ticket  agent,  but  before  he 
returned  the  train  started  and  I  could  only  wave  an  adieu  to 
my  friends.  I  had  two  satchels  and  myself,  without  a  corner 
for  any  one  of  us,  and  I  was  wondering  what  would  happen, 
when  I  found  myself  near  another  smooth-faced  Caucassian  who 
had  been  observing  us  three  priests  on  the  station  platform  at  Kobe. 

73 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

"Tough  luck,"  I  said  to  him  and  his  eyes  brightened. 

"Why,"  and  he  spoke  with  a  Dublin  brogue  that  fell  on  my 
good  ear  like  the  purling  of  a  brook,  "you  don't  belong  here, 
Father?" 

I  disclosed  my  ancestry  and  from  that  moment  had  only  to 
hear  him  "Japanese"  every  official  in  sight  until  he  had  them  all 
on  the  run  and  our  berths  settled,  after  which  we  sat  down  to  a 
talk  that  may  yet  mean  much  to  both  of  us  and  to  many  others. 
My  new-found  friend  had  been  for  years  in  China  and  holds  a 
responsible  position  in  Shanghai,  where  I  expect  to  find  him  at 
the  railway  station  on  my  arrival. 

Nearing  Nagasaki. 

At  Shimonoseki,  which  we  reached  the  next  morning,  we 
had  to  ferry  across  the  bay  to  Moji  for  the  Nagasaki  train  and 
just  here  I  must  pay  a  tribute  to  the  railway  and  porter  service 
in  Japan.  Our  experience  of  the  previous  night  was  a  rare  one, 
my  companion  asserted.  At  all  events,  after  our  arrival  at 
Shimonoseki  the  Irishman  had  called  a  porter  and  given  him  an 
order,  and  immediately  tags  were  put  on  my  two  grips.  "Now," 
he  said,  "don't  think  any  more  about  those  bags.  You  will  find 
them  over  in  Moji."  I  took  his  word  for  it — and  the  bags  turned 
up  at  the  proper  moment,  just  in  front  of  my  railway  car. 

A  Belgian  couple — Shanghai  acquaintances  of  my  friend — 
were  on  the  steamer,  and  a  policeman  dressed  in  civilian  attire 
asked  me  several  questions  but  never  once  inquired  about  my 
health. 

On  the  run  from  Moji  to  Nagasaki  I  had  as  companions 
the  Belgian  couple.  There  were  also  on  this  train  three  American 
officers  from  the  Philippines,  and  we  were  about  the  only  foreign 
representatives  until  a  somewhat  elderly  and  angular  American 
woman  entered,  providing  entertainment  for  all  in  her  vicinity. 

Her  belongings  occupied  so  much  space  that  the  Japanese 
man  who  had  up  to  that  time  been  enjoying  life  in  the  next 
seat  moved  to  another  car.  Arrayed  in  a  gray  sweater  and  a 
conventional  American  hat,  she  was  quick  in  movement  and 
apparently  a  quite  decided  person.  I  could  almost  hear  her 
speaking  to  the  Sunday-School  children  at  home  and  to  her 

74 


y 

>, 

^ 

C3 

-fi 

CJ 

' — 1 

C 

rt 

«i 

< 

C) 

'  / 

^ 

-— ' 

■n 

/-• 

n 

'*' 

1^ 

OJ 

1— 1 

ti^ 

h- 1 

H 

Ul 

l-H 

^ 

fc« 

X 

;2 

u 

(1) 

c 

C/i 

^ 

U" 

rn 

Ch 

o 

o 

u 

)-^ 

C  ) 

f :) 

a 

tH 

r/1 

t/i 

< 

pq 

(i> 

l-^H 

rt 

J3 

H 

H 

OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

many  friends,  unfolding  with  velocity  and  in  well-turned,  clear- 
cut  sentences  her  "wonderful"  experiences  in  the  Far  East. 

She  settled  right  down  the  moment  the  train  started,  laid 
aside  her  hat,  pushed  her  suitcase  under  the  seat,  produced 
a  roll  of  Japanese  paper,  and  with  her  fountain  pen  protected 
by  a  piece  of  paper  began  the  next  chapter  of  her  book — "Japan, 
or  Why  I  was  Born." 

After  ten  minutes  there  was  another  rustle  and  she  read 
"The  Outlook"  for  a  short  period.  Then — she  quietly  slipped 
oft  her  shoes,  folded  her  feet  on  the  seat  like  a  Japanese,  and 
appeared  to  sleep.  This  period — quite  trief — was  followed  by  a 
longer  one  during  which  her  back  was  turned  to  us,  and  I  lost 
track  of  the  performance  until  we  reached  Nagasaki,  where 
she  was  welcomed  by  two  younger  women.  All  three,  I  was  told, 
were  American  missionaries — members  of  a  veritable  army  in 
Japan. 

In  the  meantime  I  had  found  much  food  for  thought  as  we 
skirted  the  picturesque  bay  of  Omura  and  I  realized  that  we 
were  not  far  from  the  islands  where  Catholic  faith  had  endured 
without  priest  or  altar  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years.  I  had 
been  told  to  look  for  consoling  progress  in  the  diocese  of  Nagasaki 
and  I  knew  that  I  should  not  be  disappointed. 

Where  Japanese  Martyrs  Lived  and  Died. 

Bishop  Combaz  was  at  the  station,  and  alone.  He  insisted 
on  taking  one  of  the  bags,  and  we  hastened  to  an  electric  car 
which  brought  us  within  a  ten  minute  hill-walk  of  the  Cathedral 
compound,  which  lies  just  in  the  rear  of  the  principal  hotel  and 
is  reached  by  a  long  flight  of  steps. 

Photographs  of  this  church,  nestling  on  the  Nagasaki  hill, 
I  had  seen  for  years.  I  knew  that  it  had  been  dedicated  to 
twenty-six  martyrs,  who  had  been  put  to  death  on  the  shore 
below.  I  recalled,  too,  that  it  had  been  built  by  Father,  later 
Bishop,  Pettijean,  who  had  made  the  discovery  of  the  Christians, 
and  I  was  glad  indeed  to  feel  that  it  was  my  privilege  to  remain 
in  so  sacred  a  spot. 

The  Bishop's  house  at  Nagasaki  could  not  be  simpler  in 
construction,  but  it  is  admirably  located  and  from  the  balcony, 

75 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

on  which  all  the  bedrooms  open,  there  is  a  fine  view  of  the  harbor. 
This  is  the  harbor  where  thousands  of  Japanese  Christians  were 
sewed  in  bags,  weighted  with  stones,  and  drowned  for  the  faith 
of  Christ.  How  often  Father  Pettijean  must  have  thought  of 
these  good  souls  during  those  first  years  of  his  stay  in  Japan 
when,  day  after  day,  he  would  ask  himself  if  it  were  possible 
that  after  such  proof  of  love  there  were  no  Christians  left  in 
the  islands. 

As  I  turned  to  look  at  the  church  which  stood  above  us,  a 
group  of  children  entered  for  their  evening  prayer.  Most  of 
them  were  descendants  of  the  ancient  Christians,  the  Bishop 
told  me,  and  it  was  good  to  see  them.  At  the  same  time  I 
heard  the  regular  beat  of  a  small  drum  that  sounded  quite 
near,  and  in  answer  to  my  inquiry  I  learned  that  it 
came  from  a  Buddhist  temple  just  below  us.  Other  children 
were  there — children  who  do  not  know  that  God  is  a  God 
of  love.  The  contrast  was.  striking  and  at  the  moment 
disconcerting. 

We  had  yet  an  hour  before  the  October  devotions,  and  I 
excused  myself  to  go  down  on  the  street  near  the  canal,  where 
I  had  observed  a  number  of  American  sailors  with  whom  I 
was  anxious  to  talk. 

Th^ere  were  two  Catholics  among  them,  one  from  Connecticut, 
the  other  from  Indiana.  Both'  were  glad  to  meet  a  priest,  and 
both  were  tired  of  foreign  travel.  These  two  were  on  guard  in 
the  city,  detailed   to  watch  the  conduct  of  their  fellow-sailors 

« 

and  to  bring  back  to  the  ship  any  who  were  not  behaving  them- 
selves. The  ship  was  due  to  sail  the  next  morning,  Sunday,  and 
I  could  not  make  arrangements,  as  I  had  hoped  to  do,  for 
them  to  attend  Mass.  They  had  not  suspected  that  a  Catholic 
church  was  so  near. 

The  rosary  was  being  recited  by  the  seminarians  in  the 
church  when  I  returned.  The  students  were  in  the  benches, 
and  directly  behind,  squatted  on  the  floor,  were  several  parishion- 
ers, devout  men  and  women.  Father  Thiery,  who  is  also  Procura- 
tor here,  presided  at  the  organ  and  the  tones  of  the  Benediction 
hymns  were  familiar.  The  church  was  dimly  lighted,  but  an 
ardent  faith  burned  brightly  and  one  could  feel  its  warmth. 

76 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  Mission  property  at  Nagasaki  mounts  on  the  hill  until 
its  land  practically  overtops  the  church  and  the  Bishop's  residence. 
Back  of  the  church  and  above  is  the  house  of  the  pastor,  a 
Japanese  priest,  and  behind  the  Bishop's  residence  is  the 
Seminary. 

The  professors  of  the  Seminary,  including  two  Japanese 
priests,  take  their  meals  with  the  Bishop's  household.  These 
mission  dining  rooms  are  large,  as  a  rule,  built  to  accommodate 
the  priests  on  retreat  and  at  other  occasional  gatherings.  They 
are  floored  with  wide  boards  that  always  look  dusty,  and  on  their 
walls  are  usually  hung  the  photographs  of  past  bishops.  The 
table  is  generous  in  size,  and  covered  with  oil-cloth,  but  the 
meals  are  substantial  and,  as  a  rule,  the  French  cuisine  is  followed 
so  far  as  this  can  be  done  by  Japanese  domestics  whose  only 
instructors  are  the  priests  themselves. 

The  dinner,  usually  at  seven  or  seven-thirty,  is  never  hastened 
and  serves  as  a  recreation  period,  at  the  close  of  which  all  retire. 
Every  missioner  is  an  early  riser  and  Masses  begin  at  or  before 
six  o'clock. 

Sunday  followed  the  day  of  my  arrival  in  Nagasaki,  and  an 
unusual  opportunity  was  given  to  assist  at  the  ordination  of 
native  deacons,  which  took  place  during  the  late  Mass  at  nine 
o'clock.  It  must  be  remembered  that  in  Japan,  as  in  other 
pagan  countries,  Sunday  means  a  day  of  work,  not  only  for  the 
priest  but  for  the  people,  and  the  luxury  of  eleven  o'clock  Masses 
is  not  known  here. 

I  found  it  extremely  interesting  that  morning  to  watch  the 
people  mount  the  long  flight  of  stone  steps,  bow  reverently  to 
the  Crucifix  that  stands  halfway  up  guarding  the  tombs -of  two 
missioners,  slip  off  their  shoes,  and  enter  the  church — but 
when  it  came  time  for  me  to  get  in  I  could  hardly  find  either  a 
spot  uncovered  with  shoes  on  the  outside,  or  a  place  within  where 
their  owners  knelt. 

The  ordination  was  without  special  incident,  except  for 
some  hymns  sung  by  the  seminarians,  but  it  was  followed 
reverently  by  all.  There  were  three  non-Japanese  in  the  con- 
gregation, one  of  whom,  an  American  woman,  was  formerly 
interested  in  foreign  missions  while  a  resident  in  Salem,  Massa- 

77 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

chusetts.  She  is  married  and  her  husband's  business  keeps 
her  here,  where  she  has  found  not  a  single  Catholic  friend  except 
among  the  Fathers. 

With  the  Descendants  of  the  Early  Christians. 

Sunday  afternoon,  with  one  of  the  missioners  and  a  visiting 
priest  from  Siberia,  whose  only  hope  of  being  understood  was 
Latin  accompanied  with  gestures,  I  visited  Urakami,  just 
outside  of  Nagasaki,  where  there  is  a  parish  of  more  than  six 
thousand  Japanese  Catholics. 

The  church  is  new  and  massive,  and  though  bare  and  un- 
adorned within,  it  gives  an  impression  of  cathedral  grandeur. 
We  found  the  pastor,  Father  Raguet,  most  gracious.  He  has 
been  in  the  Mission  since  1879,  arriving  eleven  years  after 
Father  Salmon,  whom_  I  had  met  at  the  Bishop's  house.  Father 
Raguet  has  translated  into  Japanese  the  New  Testament  and 
our  Protestant  friends  have  made  good  use  of  his  work,  giving 
him,  however,  proper  credit. 

At  his  request  I  conducted  the  October  devotions.  There 
were  probably  six  or  seven  hundred  people — men,  women, 
and  children — and  the  rosary  was  recited  by  the  people  them- 
selves. It  somewhat  resembles  a  chant  and  takes  longer  than 
our  own.  At  Urakami  there  seemed  to  be  also  a  chanted  explana- 
tion of  each  mystery. 

A  funeral  service  immediately  followed  Benediction,  and  this 
was  conducted  by  one  of  the  Japanese  curates.  We  stayed 
in  che  church  until  after  the  Dies  Irae  and  the  prayers  had 
been  recited,  when  the  body  was  taken  out  by  two  bearers 
rather  unceremoniously  on  a  stretcher.  Funerals  must  be 
frequent  here,  as  the  parish  is  large.  The  Siberian  pastor  was 
somewhat  shocked  not  to  hear  excessive  lamentations,  nor  to  see 
tearful  countenances,  but  no  light  was  thrown  on  this  circunv- 
stance. 

Before  leaving  "Urakami  Father  Raguet  showed  us  two 
medallions,  such  as  had  been  in  use  among  the  ancient  Christians. 
They  were  in  bronze,  well-cut,  and  I  hope  to  get  copies  of  them. 
There  is  a  museum  of  these  Christian  antiquities  in  Tokyo  but 
I  learn  that  there  must  be  here  and  there  in  storehouses  many 

78 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

other  objects  that  have  not  yet  been  brought  to  light  since  the 
persecution  closed. 

Japanese  Novices  and  Seminarists. 

We  walked  over  to  the  novitiate  of  the  Marianists  that 
afternoon  and  found  more  than  sixty  Japanese  youths  in  training 
for  the  life  of  teaching-Brothers.  The  house  is  well  placed,  with 
an  excellent  view,  and  is  quite  retired.  I  found  friends  there 
among  the  Brothers,  and  the  next  day  I  visited  their  school 
which,  though  comparatively  new,  has  some  four  hundred  and 
fifty  students. 

This  visit  to  the  school  in  Nagasaki  finished  a  series  of  visits 
to  the  establishments  of  Brothers  of  Mary — visits  that  began  at 
Dayton,  Ohio,  and  included  Honolulu,  Yokohama,  Tokyo  and 
Osaka.  The  work  of  these  Brothers  in  Japan  is  worthy  of  special 
note,  because  it  is  a  marked  success  under  unusually  difficult 
circumstances.  It  is  true  that  most  of  their  students  are  pagans, 
and  that  the  Government  does  not  allow  the  teaching  of  religion 
during  school  hours,  but  the  Brothers  of  Mary  have  now  the 
confidence  of  an  ever-increasing  number  of  Japanese  parents  and 
are  highly  respected  by  the  educational  and  other  civil  authori- 
ties. They  are  helping  to  break  down  prejudices  and  are  prepar- 
ing the  ground  for  conversions,  some  of  which  have  already  been 
made. 

I  hope  that  their  houses  in  the  United  States  will  send  to 
them  American  subjects.  This  would  add  considerably  to  their 
strength,  because  English  professors  are  much  desired,  and  I 
am  confident  that  it  would  react  upon  the  Society  as  on  the 
Church  in  the  United  States. 

There  are  no  fewer  than  twenty-nine  Japanese  priests  in  the 
Nagasaki  diocese.  They  are  all  descendants  of  the  early  Chris- 
tians, and  they  have  "saved  the  day"  for  that  part  of  Japan,  filling 
up  the  gaps  formed  by  the  departure  of  European  priests  for 
the  scene  of  war.  It  is  a  real  encouragement  to  witness  the 
work  of  these  priests,  and  to  be  assured  as  I  have  been,  most 
positively,  that  they  are  in  every  respect  satisfactory. 

More  than  this — their  number  can  be  easily  doubled  and 
trebled.     The  call  has  only  to  be  sent  along  the  line  and  it  is 

79 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

possible  at  this  moment  to  select  fit  m.aterial  for  the  formation 
of  one  hundred  priests  whose  ministry  in  these  days  v/ould  effect 
much  for  the  future  of  the  Church  in  Japan.  The  one  thing  that 
stands  in  the  way  is  the  "root  of  all  evil"  (a  misnomer),  which, 
at  fifty  dollars  a  year  for  each  student,  would  provide  for  the  edu- 
cation and  sustenance  of  these  boys. 

There  are  plenty  of  good  Catholics  who  would  gladly  back 
a  promising  student  for  the  priesthood,  but  our  friends  in  Naga- 
saki have  yet  to  discover  them.  I  am  here  with  no  gifts  to  dole 
out  to  the  poor  missioners,  and  with  many  Maryknoll  needs  in 
prospect,  but  if  I  had  a  spare  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
I  would  leave  it  here  for  a  Nagasaki  Burse — and  should  feel 
that  there  would  always  be  a  good  priest — Japanese,  at  that- — 
saying  some  prayers  for  my  soul,  perhaps  until  the  Judgment  Day. 

The  Seminary  at  Nagasaki  is  typically  Japanese  except  for 
the  dormitory.  There,  the  usual  sleeping-mats  have  been  re- 
placed with  raised  boxes  into  which  mattresses  have  been  fitted. 
The  study-hall  and  class-rooms  are  provided  with  low  tables  at 
which  the  students  squat.  The  morning  toilet  is  made  in  all 
kinds  of  weather  out  in  the  yard. 

The  students  were  interested  to  hear  of  Maryknoll  and  of  the 
progress  of  Catholicity  in  the  United  States.  There  were  in  all 
twenty-six,  under  the  direction  of  Father  Gracy,  v/ho  is  assisted 
by  a  European  and  a  Japanese  priest. 

Nagasaki  was  most  restful  and  I  felt  quite  at  home  there, 
a  sensation  that  was  emphasized  occasionally  by  hearing  along 
the  line  such  tunes  as  "Marching  Thro'  Georgia"  and  "Coming 
Thro'  the  Rye,"  played  in  fairly  good  time  by  Japanese  musi- 
cians. I  should  have  liked  to  have  remained  to  visit  some  of 
the  islands,  but  I  am  not  supposed  to  be  making  this  trip  for 
my  health,  so  I  packed  the  two  bags  Tuesday  morning,  went 
through  the  usual  farewell  ceremony,  tried  in  vain  to  prevent 
the  little  Bishop  from  putting  himself  out  of  the  house  to  see  me 
off,  and  took  the  train  back  to  Shimonoseki. 

Travel  Accommodations. 

There  was  one  other  non-Japanese  on  this  trip,  and  I  took 
his  measure  as  a  United  States  subject  from  Vermont  or  southern 

80 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Indiana.  We  spoke  after  a  while,  and  to  my  surprise  I  found  a 
Russian.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  good  companion,  and  like 
myself  was  going  to  Korea,  where,  as  Vice-Consul  in  Seoul,  he 
had  become  acquainted  with  Bishop  Mutel. 

It  was  dusk  and  raining  again  when  we  drew  into  Moji,  and 
here  I  experienced  some  more  Japanese  efiiciency.  The  Russian 
looked  at  my  ticket — a  small  square  inch  of  paste-board  with  the 
customary  laundry  check  reminder  that  meant  nothing  to  me — 
and  said,  as  the  Irishman  had  said  a  few  days  before,  "You 
will  find  your  bags  on  the  other  side." 

Now  I  knew  that  the  ticket  entitled  me  to  a  passage  across 
the  ferry  and  to  an  all-night  steamer  trip  from  Japan  to  Korea. 
I  also  knew  that  if  I  could  manage  not  to  lose  that  bit  of  card- 
board I  was  safe  for  a  berth  on  the  sea-going  boat,  but  no 
particular  berth  had  been  assigned  and  I  was  guessing. 

That  was  at  about  six  p.  m.  My  companion  and  I  left  our 
bags  at  the  railway  car  with  the  tags  attached,  crossed  the 
ferry,  took  our  dinner  at  the  station  hotel,  where  we  had  the 
dining  room  to  ourselves,  submitted  to  another  police  inspection, 
hung  around  on  a  rainy  night  until  about  nine  o'clock,  and  then 
ploughed  through  mist  along  some  wharves  to  our  steamer,  a 
large  well-appointed  vessel. 

We  were  received  like  old  friends  by  the  cabin  "boys"  and 
escorted  to  our  respective  staterooms,  where  each  of  us  found  all 
his  belongings  awaiting  him.  My  "boy"  discovered  me  ten 
minutes  later  on  the  deck  and  insisted  that  I  take  a  cup  of  tea. 
In  the  morning,  after  a  rough  night,  he  brought  some  coffee 
to  the  cabin  and  later  was  quite  distressed  because  I  would  take 
no  breakfast. 


81 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  VI 

IN   KOREA 

October  24,  1917. 

OREA — we  were  getting  into  Fusan.  It  was  my 
first  glimpse  of  what  had  been  known  as  the 
"Hermit  Kingdom,"  and  as  I  looked  beyond  the 
great  detached  rocks  that  rise  above  the  water  at 
the  entrance  to  the  harbor  and  saw  its  barren  hills, 
I  thought  of  the  martyrs — Just  de  Bretenieres 
and  Henri  Doric,  whose  homes  I  had  visited  in 
France  and  whose  relatives  I  had  met.  I  thought,  too,  of  the 
bishops  and  others,  priests  and  natives,  who  had  in  these  modern 
days  shed  their  blood  for  Christ  upon  this  soil,  and  I  could  not 
help  contrasting  my  entrance  in  comfort  with  their  untold 
sufferings. 

Fishermen  in  sampans  were  toiling  for  their  morning  catch, 
and  as  we  moved  towards  the  wharf  I  was  anxious  to  get  a 
photograph,  but  Japanese  laws  are  very  strict  on  this  diversion 
in  certain  places  during  these  war-times  and  I  did  not  care  to 
lose  either  time  or  money. 

It  was  strange  to  see  the  white-dressed  Korean  men,  but  the 
contrast  with  black  made  it  easier  for  me  to  discover  two  bearded 
priests  on  the  wharf.  One,  in  a  gray  helmet,  turned  out  to 
be  Father  Ferrand  who,  while  a  missioner  in  Japan,  had  visited 
the  United  States.  The  other,  Father  Peschel,  was  a  young 
missioner  who  had  come  into  town  on  his  bicycle  from  a  neigh- 
boring village. 

We  had  just  enough  time  before  the  train  should  pull  out 
for  Taikou  to  visit  Father  Ferrand 's  mission  which,  he  proudly 
asserts,  was  built  with  American  money. 

Korea  had  an  Emperor  and  he  is  yet  alive,  as  also  is  his  son; 
but,  unfortunately  for  both,  the  good  people  of  Korea  seem 
destined  to  be  governed,  at  least  occasionally,  by  some  outsider, 
and  Japan  is  now  the  ruling  power  with  a  good  chance  of  making 
herself  at  home  for  many  a  long  year. 

The  Japanese  people  have  been  flocking  to  this  country  and 
among  them  are  Catholics.     It  is  for  this  reason  that  Father 

82 


fl!s9 


THE   SEAllNARV   AND   BISHOP'S   HOUSE   AT   TAIKOU 
"  The  more  I  saiv  of  this  mission,  the  more  I  marveled  at  what 
our  missioners  accomplish."     {p.  84.} 


EEISURELV    i'ATRONS   OE   THE   HEN     MARKET 

White-dressed  men  and  women  at  every  turn,  hats  that  look  like  wired 
Jiy-catchers  —  stately  personages  straight  as  arrows."     (p.  Sj.) 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Ferrand  came  from  Japan.  His  mission  covers  the  diocese  of 
Taikou  with  a  centre  at  Fusan. 

His  church  is  quite  small  and  he  Hves  above  in  a  few  poorly- 
furnished  rooms.  The  place  reminded  me  of  some  of  the  small 
Syrian  establishments  which  exist  in  our  large  cities,  but  Father 
Ferrand  appears  quite  content  and  hopeful.  His  catechist,  a 
saintly  man,  and  his  "boy"  returned  to  the  station  with  us  and 
Father  Ferrand  accompanied  me  to  Taikou,  a  train-ride  of 
about  three  hours. 

The  country  between  Fusan  and  Taikou  is  not  so  attractive  as 
Japan,  because  the  hills  are  quite  bare,  but  the  valleys  are  well 
cultivated  and  along  the  line  some  of  the  villages  looked  charm- 
ing. I  remarked  one  place  as  we  passed.  The  houses,  low  and 
thatched,  were  well  separated,  and  from  the  train  certainly 
appeared  respectable,  but  when  later  I  saw  for  myself  what 
uncomfortable  possibilities  they  possessed  I  could  easily  under- 
stand why  Father  Ferrand  smiled.  He  had  slept  in  that  village — 
at  least  he  had  made  the  attempt  to  sleep  there — and  in  other 
places  like  it.  This  is  one  of  the  regular  experiences  of  foreign 
mission  life,  the  details  of  which  are  not,  as  a  rule,  readable. 
Even  the  Bishop  must  take  his  turn  at  trying  to  find  repose  in 
some  Korean  house,  when  he  is  on  a  Confirmation  tour,  and  for 
that  ceremony  he  often  finds  that  he  must  either  keep  off  his 
mitre  under  these  low  roofs,  or  administer  the  sacrament  out 
of  doors. 

Taikou. 

At  Taikou,  Father  Mousset  met  us  and  we  clambered  into 
rickshaws  for  a  ride  that  opened  my  eyes  to  things  Korean  too 
numerous  to  mention.  White-dressed  men  and  women  at^every 
turn,  hats  that  looked  like  wired  fly  catchers,  top-knots  of 
black  hair,  stately  personages,  straight  as  arrows,  carrying 
long  pipes  that  looked  Hke  the  canes  of  English  "Tommies," 
children  arrayed  as  their  elders — boys  in  white  and  little  girls 
in  pinks  or  greens — these  and  a  score  of  novelties  kept  me  busy 
until  we  passed  through  the  market  place  onto  a  plain,  where  the 
path  was  rough  and  narrow  and  where  the  rickshaw  man  had  to 
do  some  figuring. 

83 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Then  on  a  rise  of  ground  in  the  distance  I  saw  two  groups  of 
substantial  buildings,  each  group  well  separated  from  the  other. 
To  my  surprise  I  learned  that  the  more  imposing  group  belonged 
to  the  Catholic  Mission  of  Taikou,  which  is  only  six  years  old. 
The  other  group,  which  I  did  not  get  near  enough  to  inspect,  is  a 
Protestant  stronghold. 

Bishop  Demange  is  still  young,  well  under  fifty.  He  met  us 
at  the  door  of  his  residence  and  I  soon  found  myself  in  interesting 
surroundings.  The  atmosphere  was  more  episcopal  than  I  had 
sensed  up  to  this  time,  probably  because  the  house  is  spacious  and 
newly  built  and  because  the  room  into  which  I  was  ushered  had 
red  paint  on  its  walls  and  some  stuffed  furniture  formally  disposed. 
A  stranger  passing  the  establishment  could  easily  imagine  that 
it  was  the  last  word  in  modern  conveniences,  but  he  would  make 
a  mistake. 

He  would  have  found  neatness,  but  he  would  have  waited  in 
vain  for  running  water,  for  electric  or  gas  light,  for  a  spring-bed 
with  its  comfortable  mattress,  and  for  his  morning  bath.  Had 
he  arrived  in  winter  he  would  have  whistled  all  day  for  steam  or 
hot-water  heat.  These  are  comforts  which  I  have  not  yet  experi- 
enced so  as  to  be  impressed  by  them  in  any  one  of  our  missions, 
least  of  all  in  Tokyo,  where  for  several  nights  I  wrote  on  my 
yellow  block  under  candle  light  at  the  archiepiscopal  residence. 

The  more  I  saw  of  this  Mission  at  Taikou  the  more  I 
marveled  at  what  our  missioners  accomplish  with  a  minimum 
of  funds  by  strict  economy  and  the  use  of  their  brains.  Here 
was  a  house  that,  for  substantial  qualities  and  form,  would 
compare  with  many  episcopal  residences  built  in  the  United 
States.  A  few  hundred  feet  away  was  a  structure  quite  as 
good,  occupied  by  Sisters  and  some  abandoned  orphans.  Be- 
low the  terraces  was  a  Seminary,  designed  to  accommodate  a 
hundred  and  forty  students  and  already  sufficient  for  more 
than  sixty,  with  a  chapel  ready  to  hold  the  entire  number.  A 
substantial  wall  for  handball  and  a  graded  playground  seemed 
to  complete  the  picture  that  opened  out  from  my  window, 
but  later  I  found  also  a  well-plaimed  cemetery,  strongly  en- 
closed with  brick,  the  same  material  that  had  entered  into  the 
construction  of  all  the  buildings. 

84 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

As  we  started  out  for  a  walk  I  asked  the  Bishop  how  he  had 
managed  to  erect  these  buildings.  As  usual,  a  missioner  was  the 
architect.  The  bricks  were  made  on  the  grounds  and  most  of  the 
land  was  the  gift  of  a  well-to-do  Korean  Catholic.  Other 
material  and  labor  was  paid  for  to  a  small  extent  by  the  people, 
but  principally  by  friends  of  the  Bishop  or  of  his  Mission. 

As  we  reached  the  Seminary  the  boys  were  finishing  a  short 
afternoon  recreation,  but  we  saw  them  all  in  the  class-rooms, 
earnest  young  Koreans,  with  good,  honest  faces  that  made  one 
feel  that  the  spread  of  the  Church  in  Korea  would  be  much 
greater  because  of  their  faith  and  their  zeal.  Vocations  abound 
here  as  in  Nagasaki  and  nothing  pleases  the  Bishop  better  than 
the  assurance  that  he  can  find  means  to  call  another  Korean 
boy  to  prepare  for  the  priesthood. 

I  snapped  a  group  of  white-robes  just  outside  of  the  Mission 
entrance,  as  they  were'batting  the  rice,*  and  then  we  proceeded 
to  give  an  exhibition  to  the  town,  the  Bishop  in  full  regalia,  with 
a  cigar  and  cane  added  to  his  outfit,  and  myself  in  civilian  garb, 
as  the  French  priests  describe  their  cassockless  brethren,  with  a 
kodak  loaded  for  attack. 

We  sauntered.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  doing  the  same, 
except  at  the  market  where  they  were  sitting  on  their  heels  and 
chatting  in  groups.  Occasionally  we  met  a  Catholic — and  his 
salutation  was  magnificent.  His  hat,  a  precious  thing,  stayed  on, 
but  his  restrained  bov/,  solemn  and  reverent,  was  quite  con- 
vincing. The  people,  men  and  women,  looked  us  all  over,  and 
the  children  followed  us. 

"Two  great  men,"  they  were  saying  (the  Bishop  can  testify 
to  this),  and  I  could  feel  the  wind  blowing  up  the  front  of  my 
rain-coat  across  the  chest.  It  was  a  fine  show,  for  both  sides, 
but  I  really  think  that  I  got  more  out  of  it  than  the  other  side  did. 

We  walked  around  the  town  until  we  reached  the  Cathedral, 
a  solid  building,  large  enough  to  seat  five  or  six  hundred  white 
people  or  a  thousand  Koreans.  Father  Robert,  the  pastor,  was 
absent,  and  we  did  not  enter  his  house,  a  Korean  structure  which 
looked  particularly  inviting. 

Four  lords  who  happened  to  be  chatting  as  we  went  into  the 
churchyard  made  obeisance  to  the  "two  great  ones"  and  bowed 

85 


y 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

us  out  ceremoniously.  No  words  were  spoken  on  either  side, 
perhaps  because,  as  the  copy-book  used  to  say,  "actions  speak 
louder  than  words." 

It  was  my  privilege  to  oflfer  the  community  Mass  next  morn- 
ing. The  chapel  is  arranged  with  benches  on  either  side  facing 
each  other.  The  students,  among  whom  was  one  very  near  the 
priesthood,  leave  their  shoes  outside  habitually  and  enter  the 
chapel  in  their  thick  white  cotton  socks.  They  are  most 
reverent  and  during  Mass  recite  prayers  aloud,  alternating  in  a 
peculiar  chant. 

That  morning  the  Bishop  took  me  to  the  convent  where 
we  found  a  group  of  abandoned  orphans,  some  of  whom  were 
working  on  embroidery,  for  which  regular  purchasers  could,  I 
believe,  easily  be  found  among  the  dry-goods  houses  in  the  States. 
The  nuns,  including  three  French  women  and  eight  or  ten 
Koreans,  are  devoted  to  their  charges,  and  the  Superioress, 
who  was  formerly  in  the  Philippines,  showed  the  mother's 
heart  as  she  embraced  a  weak  little  one  whose  face  plainly 
told  that  she  would  soon  be  with  God.  Fortunate  child,  to 
have  fallen  into  such  tender  hands!  I  recalled  the  expression 
so  often  used  by  our  mission  Sisters  when  they  refer  to  dying 
infants  as  "thieves  of  Paradise." 

After  an  early  lunch  I  started  for  Seoul.  While  waiting  at 
the  Taikou  station,  and  while  elderly  noble  "lords"  exchanged 
curious  looks  with  us,  Father  Mousset  approached  a  young  man 
who  was  wearing  a  double-header  and  "by  his  leave"  lifted  the 
top  hat  so  that  I  might  examine  at  close  range  this  creation  in 
horse-hair.  I  made  an  appreciative  speech  which  was  not 
translated  by  Father  Mousset,  and  the  young  man  seemed  quite 
honored  as  he  replaced  the  fly-catcher. 

At  Home  in  Seoul. 

I  had  been  in  correspondence  with  Bishop  Mutel  for  a  dozen 
years  and  was  familiar  with  his  photograph,  so  that  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  recognize  him  as  he  stood  on  the  station  platform  at  Seoul. 

Every  inch  and  at  every  moment  a  Bishop,  is  the  Vicar- 
Apostolic  of  Seoul,  but  he  is  evidently  unconscious  of  the 
impression  that   his  beautiful  life — an  open  book — is  making 

86 


THE   CATHEDRAL   AT   SEOUL 
"Tlttder  its  sacristy  is  a  veritable  cave  of  martyrs."     {p.  gi.) 


A  TYPICAL  'KOREAN  HUT 

"The  houses,  low  and  thatched,  were  well  separated,  and  from  the  train  appeared  respectable, 

but  later  I  saw  what  iincofnfortable  possibilities  they  possessed."     (p.  Sj.) 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

on  all  who  come  in  contact  with  him.  Large  in  view  and  big  of 
heart,  Bishop  Mutel  is  a  Catholic  through  and  through,  and  his 
simple,  gracious  manner  made  it  impossible  to  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  staying  at  his  house  until  after  All  Saints*. 

That  was  Thursday  at  nine  p.  m.,  and  when  the  rickshaw 
men  dumped  us  out  at  the  Cathedral  gate,  Father  Larribeau, 
an  agile  little  Procurator,  was  there  to  receive  us.  The  residence 
is  a  large  brick  building,  with  a  balcony  at  one  end  overlooking 
the  city.    The  Cathedral  itself  towers  on  a  height  in  the  rear. 

The  house  within  is  physically  cheerless,  with  its  floors  of 
wide  boards  filled  with  the  dust  of  years,  its  bare  walls,  its  poor 
oil  lamps,  and  the  general  lack  of  small  comforts;  but  the  spirit 
that  pervades  it,  I  soon  learned,  is  so  warm,  so  pure,  so  uncon- 
sciously spiritual,  that  I  realized  more  fully  than  ever  how  small 
an  influence  material  comforts  exert  in  the  life  of  a  Catholic 
missioner. 

We  sipped  some  tea  and  I  was  shown  my  room,  the  one 
freshly-painted  apartment  in  the  house  and  the  one  most  open 
to  a  welcome  sun.  (We  are  near  November  and  the  climate  here 
is  much  like  that  of  Maryknoll.) 

I  slept  that  night  as  if  I  had  reached  the  Nirvana  stage,  and 
as  I  stepped  out  on  the  balcony  before  going  over  to  the  Cathe- 
dral the  sun  was  lighting  the  surrounding  hills  and  falling  on  the 
roofs,  quaint  and  modern  by  turns,  of  this  considerable  city. 

The  priests  were  all  out,  saying  Mass,  when  I  left  the  house, 
but  I  found  my  way  to  the  Cathedral  on  the  height  above,  and 
entered.  It  was  at  the  Canon  of  the  Mass,  and  around  the  altar 
the  supreme  hush  had  fallen,  but  from  the  centre  of  the  church 
came  the  hum  of  many  voices — the  buzz  of  prayer  from  some 
three  score  of  Koreans,  men  and  women,  who  were  seated  on  the 
floor.  All  were  dressed  in  white  and  the  men,  as  a  rule,  wore  their 
head-pieces.  The  women  looked  like  a  flock  of  white  nuns 
veiled  for  their  devotions. 

I  lingered  that  morning  after  the  thanksgiving  prayers  and 
sauntered  down  through  the  church.  Its  gray  brick,  uncovered 
with  plaster,  revealed  its  strength,  and  mounted  into  high  and 
graceful  vaults.  No  fresco  "artist"  had  stenciled  these  walls, 
and  with  the  exception  of  a  few  benches  for  Europeans,  the 

87 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

pulpit  (a  model  of  wood-carving),  and  a  baptismal  font,  there 
were  no  church  furnishings. 

As  I  came  back  from  the  end  of  the  aisle  I  found  that  the 
men,  who  occupy  exclusively  the  Epistle  side,  had  left  the  church, 
and  that  the  women  were  preparing  to  go,  all  except  a  little 
group  of  about  eight  who  together  were  making  the  Way  of  the 
Cross  before  returning  to  their  houses.  It  was  interesting  to 
watch  their  sortie,  and  I  was  reminded  of  scenes  in  Europe  where 
good  Catholics  feel  so  much  at  home  in  their  churches  that  they 
sometimes  shock  the  unthinking  traveler.  These  Korean 
women,  I  understood  later,  had  been  in  the  church  from  one  to 
two  hours.  They  now  began  to  "fix  up"  as  if  they  were  leaving 
a  sewing-circle  or  some  friend's  house.  Veils  were  folded,  dresses 
mysteriously  arranged,  mats  gathered  and  stowed  away,  I 
don't  know  where,  and  all  the  time  a  low  chatting  was  going  on 
which  finished  with  the  fixings  and  was  followed  by  a  little  Holy 
Water  and  a  large  genuflection. 

How  Mission  Churches  are  Built. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  I  plied  the  Bishop  with  questions 
about  the  church,  how  it  was  built,  by  what  architect,  for  how 
much  money,  from  what  source.  I  learned  among  other  things 
that  a  priest  prepared  the  plans,  that  he  died  before  the  building 
was  begun,  and  that  one  of  his  confreres  carried  the  structure 
to  its  successful  completion.  Some  American  priest  traveling 
through  Seoul  wrote  aftenvards  to  ask  the  Bishop  for  blue  prints, 
or  a  copy  of  the  plans,  and  the  Bishop  was  forced  to  answer  that 
they  never  had  any  such  things — only  small  memoranda  and 
drawings  made  on  the  spot  as  needed.  The  work  of  priest- 
architects  in  the  Far  East  would,  I  believe,  be  worthy  of  a 
printed  volume. 

The  Mission  grounds,  now  valuable  property,  were  purchased 
with  foresight  when  land  was  cheap,  and  the  church  was  started 
by  the  generous  gift  of  a  French  lady,  supplemented  by  smaller 
sums  from  other  Europeans,  with  sacrifice  offerings  from  the 
Koreans  themselves. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  think,  as  I  know  that  some  Catholic  travelers 
have  thought,  that  these  substantial  churches  of  the  Far  East 

88 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

are  constructed  from  the  funds  of  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith 
Society.  The  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith  has  all 
that  it  can  do  to  distribute  a  few  dollars  a  month  to  Catholic 
missioners  in  various  portions  of  the  world,  for  their  personal 
upkeep.  Building  in  the  foreign  missions  depends,  as  a  rule, 
upon  the  charity  of  interested  individuals,  inspired  by  the  initia- 
tive of  bishops  or  priests,  backed  doubtless  by  the  grace  that 
comes  from  prayer.  Occasionally  a  mission  has  funds  on  which 
to  draw,  or  a  society  upon  which  to  fall  back,  but  this  condition 
is  far  from  being  the  rule,  and  even  where  it  exists  the  funds  are 
very  limited. 

Catholic  Activities. 

My  first  day  in  Seoul  was  profitably  spent  at  the  Mission 
itself,  which  contains  fully  a  dozen  buildings. 

The  Cathedral  pastor  has  his  own  establishment,  a  one-story 
building,  where  he  is  accessible  to  his  devoted  parishioners. 
There  is  another  house,  Japanese  in  style,  for  the  priest  who  has 
charge  of  the  Japanese  in  Seoul.  This  is  arranged  with  an  ell 
that  gives  accommodation  for  a  catechism  and  recreation  room. 
There  is  also  an  asylum  for  abandoned  children,  who  are  trained 
by  the  Sisters  of  St.  Paul  and  whose  handiwork  in  white  serviettes, 
table-cloths,  and  so  forth,  is  what  the  average  American  woman 
would  call  "wonderful"  and  "lovely."  And  there  are  small 
schools  for  boys  and  girls. 

The  grounds  are  well  laid  out  in  terraces  planted  with  trees 
and  vegetables.  They  are  extensive,  and  from  any  point  the 
view  is  excellent.  Lack  of  resources  and  the  need  of  a  priest  to 
supervise  prevent  the  Mission  from  making  the  land  more  pro- 
ductive. 

At  Chemulpo,  about  an  hour's  ride  on  the  train,  I  might 
have  taken  a  boat  and  tried  my  luck  on  the  waters  of  the  Yellow 
Sea,  but  the  day  we  went  there  was  disagreeable  and  we  could 
not  even  see  much  of  the  parish  itself,  which  is  in  charge  of 
Father  Deneux,  whom  I  had  known  by  correspondence. 

The  church  is  solid  looking,  and  the  schools  well  attended. 
Father  Deneux  lives  alone  in  a  small  house  that  reminded  me  of 
a  country   pastor's   residence   in    France.      His   domestic   is   a 

89 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Korean  "lord,"  whose  cooking  is  supplemented   by   some  oc- 
casional dishes  sent  over  from  the  convent  kitchen. 

I  am  beginning  to  sense  the  difference  between  the  Korean 
and  the  European  cooking,  but  the  subject  is  too  intricate  for 
this  log.  It  may  be  illuminating,  however,  to  remark  that 
when  means  allow  it  the  Korean  kitchen  in  our  mission  estab- 
lishments is  removed  from  the  main  structure. 

Sunday  at  Seoul  was  a  restful  day.  The  early  Masses  were 
well  attended  by  a  devout  congregation,  most  of  whom  received 
Holy  Communion.  Before  the  late  Mass,  which  began  at  nine- 
thirty,  I  went  out  to  observe,  and  found  as  usual  that  there 
were  other  observers  on  the  scene. 

A  steady  file  of  white-robed  "lords"  assisted  in  their  high 
hats,  and  there  were  white-robed  women  with  smooth  black 
hair  pasted  down  on  small  heads,  white-robed  boys  and  little 
girls  in  pink  and  green,  all  bound  for  the  upper  church,  while 
Japanese  men,  women,  and  boys,  with  Japanese  babies  on  the 
backs  of  their  mothers,  sisters,  or  brothers,  were  going  into  the 
crypt  below  the  sacristy.  There  were  some  Europeans,  too, 
including  a  few  Canadians,  all  of  whom  I  met  later;  and  when 
the  Bishop  came  along,  at  the  ringing  of  the  last  bell,  we  all 
entered  the  church,  the  Bishop  going  immediately  without 
ceremony  to  his  throne,  the  few  priests  to  their  benches. 

The  Bishop's  throne  is  somewhat  unusual.  It  consists  of 
a  wide  arm-chair  and  a  wide  kneeler,  both  on  a  platform  about 
a  foot  high.  The  chair,  of  Gothic  design,  is  without  a  canopy, 
and  it  faces  the  altar. 

The  children,  with  all  the  nuns,  French  and  Korean,  entered 
the  church  in  procession  and  gathered  near  a  small  organ  that 
gave  a  somewhat  meagre  accompaniment  to  very  creditable 
singing.  The  Korean  voices  seem  to  be  fuller  than  those  of  the 
Japanese,  but  this  does  not  say  much.  The  children  kept  ex- 
cellent time,  however,  and  up  to  the  tone.  The  Credo  was  to  me 
especially  significant  and  as  the  young  voices  chanted  the 
familiar  words,  Et  unam  Sanctam  Catholicam  et  Apostolicam 
Ecdesiam,  I  was  thankful  for  the  opportunity  to  see  the  partial 
realization  of  that  desire  of  the  heart  of  Christ  that  we  of  all 
nations  may  be  one  as  He  and  His  heavenly  Father  are  One. 

90 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Where  Martyrs  Sleep. 

At  what  cost,  I  thought,  has  this  much  been  accomplished? 
And  the  answer  lay  in  the  tombs  of  martyrs,  whose  precious 
relics  were  in  the  crypt  below  that  sanctuary. 

At  what  cost?  A  further  answer  could  be  readily  found  in 
the  life  of  the  Bishop  who  sat  alone  across  the  sanctuary  and 
who  has  seen  forty  years  of  service. 

What  will  be  the  cost  of  further  development?  I  asked 
myself,  and  I  recalled  the  Bishop's  sermon  that  morning.  , 

It  was  preached  before  the  earlier  Mass,  and  I  did  not  under- 
stand a  word  of  it  because  it  was  in  Korean,  but  I  knew  that  it 
was  on  the  Gospel  of  the  day — the  tribute  to  Caesar — and  that 
the  subject  must  have  been  a  difficult  and  delicate  one,  because 
the  Korean  is  not  a  Japanese  and  yet  Japan  is  his  master.  What 
of  the  future  here?  Only  God  knows,  but  the  Church  makes 
progress  through  pain. 

The  Korean  Catholics  are  worthy.  More  than  this,  they  are 
habitually  prepared  for  sacrifices  and  they  have  already  made 
many.  As  for  the  Catholic  missioner,  his  record  for  sacrifices 
so  far  is  without  blemish,  and  a  portion  at  least  of  the  heathen 
world  begins  to  realize  this. 

One  does  not  have  to  go  far  from  the  Cathedral  of  Seoul  to 
read  a  record  of  heroic  sacrifice  for  Christ.  Under  its  sacristy 
is  a  veritable  cave  of  martyrs  whose  precious  remains  have  been 
carefully  deposited  there.  We  dare  to  hope  that  for  generations, 
until  the  end  of  time,  the  faithful  of  Korea  will  recall  with  grati- 
tude as  they  enter  their  beautiful  church  the  presence  of  these 
martyrs  whose  blood  brought  forth  the  flower  of  faith  upon  this 
barren  soil. 

The  first  martyrs  of  1839  are  there.  Bishop  Imbert,  Father 
Maubant  and  Father  Chastan,  all  of  whom  have  been  declared 
venerable.  And  of  the  second  persecution,  in  1866,  the  bodies 
of  twelve  victims  are  in  this  crypt — two  Bishops,  the  Vicar- 
Apostolic,  Bishop  Berneux,  and  his  coadjutor.  Bishop  Daveluy; 
six  priests,  all  from  the  Paris  Seminary;  and  four  Korean  laymen. 

Among  the  priests  of  the  second  persecution  is  the  body  of 
Henri  Doric,  whose  brother  I  once  visited  in  France.  I  recall, 
too,    occupying    the    rooms   of    Father    Beaulieu    and    Father 

91 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Aumaitre  at  the  Seminary  in  Paris,  when  on  a  visit  to  that 
nursery  of  martyrs.  Just  de  Bretenieres's  body  was  here 
until  1911,  when  at  the  urgent  request  of  his  brother.  Father 
Christian,  it  was  transferred  to  France.     The  niche  is  vacant. 

The  Korean  altar  boys  at  Seoul  dress  in  bright  red  cassocks, 
with  long  well-kept  muslin  surplices  and  their  usual  white 
stockings.  They  leave  their  shoes  outside  but  they  bring  into 
the  church  reverent  manners  and  intelligent  service.  I  met  some 
of  them  after  Mass  when  I  had  an  opportunity  to  give  a  lesson 
in  English  to  a  group  of  youngsters,  four  of  whom  had  babies 
on  their  backs. 

As  the  Father  Procurator  came  out  of  the  church  he 
saw  a  poor  Korean  woman  with  a  little  child.  They  were  two 
of  his  former  parishioners,  from  a  small  village  some  miles  away, 
and  the  young  priest's  face  brightened  as  he  said,  "Some  old 
friends  are  coming." 

I  watched  the  encounter.  Twenty  feet  away  the  mother 
stopped,  bowing  low,  and  a  moment  later  the  child — she  could 
not  have  been  more  than  four  or  five  years  old — stepped  forward 
in  her  long  pink  skirt,  doubled-up  until  her  head  almost  touched 
the  ground,  and  then  stood  erect,  modest  yet  unabashed. 

I  left  the  group  to  have  their  chat  over  "old  times." 

Seoul  has  a  Seminary  and  Monastery. 

Seoul  had  too  homey  an  atmosphere  to  run  away  from,  and 
I  was  easily  persuaded  to  stay  until  after  Thursday,  All  Saints' 
Day.  This  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  visit  the  Seminary  and 
the  Benedictine  Fathers,  both  of  which  establishments  lie  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  city  at  two  opposite  points.  The  delay  also 
kept  me  in  Seoul  for  a  national  holiday. 

The  Seminary  was  another  revelation  of  possibilities  in 
the  development  of  a  native  clergy.  It  is  well  located,  with  a 
look-out  over  the  water,  quite  spacious  grounds,  and  four 
buildings  poorly  furnished  but  substantially  built.  All  the 
buildings  are  low  and  of  the  regulation  gray  brick,  which  seems 
to  be  very  common  in  the  East. 

The  Superior,  a  European,  is  assisted  by  native  priests.  The 
chapel  is  a  separate  structure,  neat  and  commodious.    A  special 

92 


'  There  is  also  an  as  xltan  for  abajiduiicd  children  who  are  trained 
by  the  Sisters  of  St.  Paul."     (p.  8g.) 


^^ Evidently  iniconscious  of  the  impression  that  his  beautiful  life  is 
viaking  on  all."     {p.  S6.) 

BISHOP    MUTEL    OF    SEOUL    WITH    SOME    OF    HIS    LITTLE    FOLKS 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

interest  for  the  students  lies  in  the  fact  that  under  one  corner 
are  the  remains  of  Father  Andrew  Kim,  a  valiant  young  native 
priest  who  was  martyred  for  the  Faith.  The  commemorative 
tablet  is  very  simple,  bearing  the  Chi  Rho  over  a  palm-branch, 
and,  below,  the  martyr's  name  with  the  years  of  his  life  (1821- 
1846). 

There  are  one  hundred  and  two  students  in  the  Seminary. 
As  there  is  a  shortage  of  professors  new  applicants  are  received 
at  present  only  once  in  three  years.  Those  in  orders  wear  a 
kind  of  cassock,  shorter  than  that  used  by  our  priests,  and  several 
had  beards  or  moustaches,  or  a  suggestion  of  such  more  or  less 
useful  acquisitions.  Serious  and  well-mannered,  these  students 
give  promise  of  great  assistance  to  their  Bishop,  and  I  felt  again 
that  if  I  could  meet  some  one  with  money  who  wished  to  make  a 
good  investment  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow-men  and  for  his  own 
I  would  recommend  him  to  establish  one  or  more  scholarships 
at  Seoul. 

The  inside  walls  of  the  Seminary  are  bare  of  prints  and  I 
learned  that  this  is  due  to  the  cost  of  frames.  In  the  dormitories 
I  noticed  on  the  back  of  each  bed  a  tin  basin.  The  morning 
ablutions,  however,  take  place  outside  in  all  kinds  of  weather. 

The  cook  has  little  thinking  to  do.  All  meals  taste  alike 
to  the  Korean,  at  least  to  the  seminarians  of  that  country, 
and  breakfast  is  like  lunch  while  lunch  so  closely  resembles 
dinner  that  a  student  might  easily  be  deceived  about  the  time 
of  day.  The  substance  of  the  meal  is  rice,  which  is  mixed  with 
beans  so  as  not  to  encourage  the  disease  known  as  beri-beri — a 
beri-beri  bad  complaint. 

The  odor  of  the  Korean  kitchen  must  certainly  be  cultivated 
to  be  enjoyed,  but  the  soup  is  hot  stuff  and  the  students  evidently 
reUsh  all  that  is  given  to  them.  What  little  remains  finds  its 
way  into  a  pail  that  decorates  the  centre  of  the  table.  There  is 
no  need  of  waiters.  This  is  the  land  of  the  simple  life,  where 
camp  conditions  are  chronic. 

The  Martyrology  was  read  in  Latin  during  dinner  and  all 
through  this  exercise  the  straight  Korean  back  manifested  itself. 

The  boys  were  on  the  terrace  playground  as  we  left  the 
Seminary,  and  Bishop  Mutel,  pointing  over  their  heads  to  a 

93 


OBSERVAT I GNS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

stretch  of  land  towards  the  bay,  indicated  the  spot  where  the 
martyrs  of  1866  won  their  crown.  The  Seminary  chapel,  at  the 
request  of  its  donor,  faces  the  site. 

The  Benedictine  Fathers  established  at  Seoul  are  an  ofif- 
shoot  of  the  European  monastery  at  Beuron,  well-known  for  its 
activities  in  ecclesiastical  music  and  art.  Organized  especially 
for  foreign  missions,  these  Benedictines  wear  the  red  sash  of 
Propaganda.  In  a  comparatively  short  time  they  have  accom- 
plished much  in  the  missions  confided  to  their  care. 

All  of  them  are  Germans,  however,  and  here  as  elsewhere  the 
war  has  quite  upset  their  plans,  but  their  installation  is  clear 
evidence  of  their  ability  to  "make  good"  if  they  shall  be  free  to  do 
so.  As  it  is,  they  are  trying  to  keep  busy,  always  conscious  of 
their  precarious  situation.  In  the  meantime,  they  have  about 
a  score  of  students  to  whom  they  are  teaching  the  manual 
arts  and  their  handicraft  is  sought  especially  by  Europeans 
and  Americans,  who  have  discovered  the  perfection  of  their  work. 

The  Bishop  accompanied  me  to  the  monastery,  and  I  was 
edified  by  all  that  I  saw  and  heard.  The  refectory  prayers  were 
most  devotional  and  I  should  like  to  have  listened  to  these  eight 
or  nine  monks  rendering  the  Solesmes  chant  to  which  even  here 
in  Korea  they  give  particular  attention. 

Social  Events. 

Not  the  least  interesting  experience  which  I  had  while  in 
Korea  was  a  "Garden  Party"  at  the  Governor-General's  estate 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  national  holiday. 

A  few  days  before  Bishop  Mutel  had  brought  me  to  a  small 
charity  affair  at  the  British  Consulate,  where  they  sipped  tea 
at  small  tables  made  for  small  talk  and  where  we  found  ourselves 
in  the  company  of  two  Anglican  divines,  an  American  missionary 
nurse,  an  American  doctor  (Presbyterian),  and  the  widow  of  an 
English  Consul.  That  little  dip  into  the  society  of  exiles  pre- 
pared me  in  some  measure  for  the  "Garden  Party" — but  there 
was  a  world  of  difference  between  the  two  events  and  the  Garden 
Party  easily  overshadowed  the  "green"  tea. 

Invitation  was  by  ticket  and  I  had  none,  but  on  the  morning 
of  the  holiday  Bishop  Mutel  made  his  visit  of  felicitation  to  the 

94 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Governor-General  and  incidentally  fixed  matters  so  that  I 
could  get  into  that  official's  estate  without  being  arrested. 

Well,  it  was  worth  while  but  I  cannot  describe  it.  Everybody 
was  due  at  about  two-thirty,  and  after  a  look  at  the  outside  of 
the  Governor's  palace  the  visitors  slowly  proceeded  through  a 
vast  estate,  over  a  path  that  went  up  and  down,  giving  always  a 
picturesque  view  with  occasional  glimpses  of  the  entire  city. 
Before  starting  each  guest  was  presented  with  a  chrysanthemum 
souvenir  and  a  plan  of  the  entire  promenade.  On  this  plan  were 
indicated  the  stations  at  which  some  specialty  in  food  or  drink 
was  prepared  or  some  entertainment  given.  There  were  twenty- 
two  stations. 

As  the  guests  lingered  or  advanced  we  had  an  opportunity 
to  come  into  contact  with  many.  Bishop  Mutel  is  beloved  by 
all  and  presented  me  to  various  people,  including  the  Governor- 
General,  several  Consuls,  the  Anglican  Bishop,  a  Standard  Oil 
man,  and  a  couple  of  Protestant  missionaries.  (Perhaps  the 
order  of  precedence  is  not  correct  here.) 

The  Cure  of  the  Cathedral  and  the  Superior  of  the  Seminary 
were  with  us  and  everybody  appeared  at  the  finale,  a  buffet 
lunch  for  the  members  of  the  royal  family,  officials  and  officers 
of  the  Shinnin  and  Chokunin  (don't  ask  me)  ranks,  members  of 
the  consular  corps,  and  ladies,  at  four  o'clock,  and  for  gentlemen 
(this  is  where  we  entered)  at  four-ten. 

As  we  walked  back  through  the  narrow  streets,  wearing 
yellow  chrysanthemums,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  received  the  Order  of 
the  Rising  Sun.  The  air  in  the  city  was  full  of  banzais  that 
night  but  I  imagine  that  the  ancients  among  the  Koreans  were 
not  over-enthusiastic. 

All  Saints'  and  All  Souls'. 

We  had  solemn  Benediction  All  Saints'  Day  and  the  church 
was  quite  well  filled.  The  men  in  attendance  were,  of  course, 
few,  as  they  were  at  work  in  the  city  or  out  in  the  fields.  As  I 
went  into  the  Cathedral  for  the  service  I  saw  in  one  of  the  pews 
a  young  Anglican  minister  whom  I  had  met  at  the  British  Con- 
sul's—  I  wondered  afterward  if  his  ears,  accustomed  probably 
to  more  perfect  chant  than  that  rendered  by  the  Korean  children, 

95 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

interfered  with  his  devotion.  He  had  an  opportunity  also  to 
hear  the  Korean  catechist  chant  a  hymn  to  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment that  rather  startled  me  until  I  learned  what  it  was.  Per- 
haps, however,  that  simple  service  made  a  stronger  appeal  to 
his  soul  than  if  the  chant  had  been  perfect  and  the  prayer 
intelligible. 

The  orphan  children  looked  like  a  bunch  of  crysanthemums 
as  they  stood  around  the  little  organ  and  sang  the  hymns. 
Later  I  saw  them  outside,  going  back  to  the  convent,  in  their 
long  vermilion  skirts  and  brown  waists,  with  their  black  hair 
braided  and  shining. 

The  Angelus  bell  has  a  deep  rich  tone  that  sounded  very 
solemn  on  the  eve  of  All  Souls'.  The  Bishop  told  me  that 
pagans  have  been  particularly  struck  by  its  call  to  prayer  for 
the  departed. 

On  All  Souls'  Day  itself  it  was  yet  dark  as  I  went  out  for 
Mass  at  six  o'clock,  and  the  air  was  cold  as  it  might  have  been 
going  over  to  St.  Teresa's,  but  the  Korean  garb,  white  and 
flowing,  brought  the  realization  that  I  was  far  from  the  Hudson 
hills.  Confessions  were  heard  as  on  every  morning  and  were 
numerous.  The  old  women,  I  may  remark,  take  the  same  atti- 
tudes while  waiting  in  line  as  ours  do  in  the  United  States.  There 
was  a  goodly  attendance  of  men,  women,  and  children,  with 
many  Communions — several  hundred,  apparently.  After  Mass 
those  who  had  received  Holy  Communion  lingered  for  prayers, 
which  they  seemed  to  hum  in  little  groups. 

That  day  I  took  my  departure  regretfully  from  Seoul. 
Bishop  Mutel,  with  four  of  his  priests — one  a  Korean — came 
to  the  station,  and  the  Bishop  accompanied  me  for  a  few  miles 
on  the  train.  I  asked  him  when  he  would  come  to  America, 
and  with  a  characteristic  expression  he  shook  his  head  and 
answered  that  he  did  not  expect  to  make  another  long  journey 
until  the  last  one — and  he  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  cemetery. 

The  Bishop  of  Seoul  certainly  radiates  his  spirit  and  all  his 
priests  seem  to  have  caught  it.  The  position  of  a  Bishop  is  a 
difficult  one  in  many  respects  and  his  presence  usually  affects 
his  priests  with  a  conscious  realization  of  a  chasm  more  or  less 
wide  and  more  or  less  deep.    With  the  Bishop  of  Seoul — and  I 

96 


o 


H 

1—4 

H 
O 

Q 


o 

o 

o 

CO 


H 

GO 

I— I 


< 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

have  noted  it  elsewhere  on  the  missions — there  is  no  chasm, 
nothing  but  a  sUght  elevation,  very  near,  that  inspires  con- 
fidence, sharpening  rather  than  dulling  the  wits  below. 

I  can  only  hope  that  when  American  missioners  get  to  the 
field  their  spirit  will  be  as  much  as  possible  like  that  which 
it  has  been  my  privilege  to  experience  so  far  in  the  Orient. 

I  was  bound  for  Mukden,  Manchuria — a  ride  of  a  day  and 
a  night.  The  trip  had  nothing  eventful  although  it  was  particu- 
larly interesting  as  covering  a  possible  field  for  Maryknollers. 

On  the  train  was  a  New  Yorker,  Russian-born  and  bound  for 
his  native  country,  a  hard  proposition  at  this  writing.  He  was 
homesick  for  the  Bronx. 

I  did  have  one  thrill  on  that  ride.  As  our  train  swung  to  the 
west  from  Anju  I  saw  the  sun  setting  over  the  Bay  of  Korea, 
and  for  a  moment  I  thought  that  I  was  taking  the  MaryknoU 
express  for  Ossining  on  a  glorious  November  afternoon.  The 
reaction  was  not  too  pleasant,  and  I  was  tempted  to  dream  again, 
when  the  train  stopped  and  a  Korean  "noble"  pushed  his  face 
towards  my  window  as  much  as  to  say,  "Don't  forget  that  you 
are  with  us  still." 


97 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  VII 

THROUGH   MANCHURIA   TO   TIENTSIN 

November  4,  1917. 

E  crossed  the  Yalu  river  Saturday  night  and  entered 
China  at  An-tung,  Manchuria.  Before  turning  into 
a  comfortable  sleeping-car  apartment  I  paced  the 
platform  for  a  while  to  note  the  change  from  Korea. 
A  Japanese  boy  whom  I  could  not  shake  off 
dragged  me  into  his  mother's  shop,  designated  as 
a  waiting-room,  where  I  had  to  buy  some  post- 
cards— poor  ones  at  that.  The  mother  was  asleep  but  woke  to 
give  me  change  and  went  off  again  to  slumber  with  her  head  on 
a  marble  slab.  Outside  I  thought  for  a  moment  that  I  saw  a 
group  of  seminarians.  They  were  all  young  men,  clean-shaven, 
wearing  glasses,  and  apparently  in  cassocks,  but  when  I  came 
near  I  saw  that  they  were  in  the  long  black  winter  coat  of  the 
average  Chinese  young  man.  They  looked  clean  and  intelligent 
and  had  come  down,  perhaps  from  some  school,  to  say  good-bye 
to  a  friend. 

Sunday  morning  I  woke  as  we  were  getting  towards  Mukden, 
and  found  my  Bronx  friend  more  cheerful. 

It  was  six-thirty  as  the  train  stopped,  and  a  few  moments 
later  I  found  myself  in  a  crowd  of  Chinese,  headed  for  the  main 
street  in  Mukden.  It  was  cold  and  in  my  haste  to  warm  up  I 
almost  knocked  over  two  Chinese  girls  who  were  running  in  a 
zigzag  line  on  their  compressed  feet.  These  stumps  were  harrow- 
ing to  look  upon  and  the  only  advantage  that  I  can  see  in  them 
is  that  there  seem  to  be  no  toes  on  which  graceless  walkers  can  step. 

With  the  Bishop  of  Mukden. 

Bishop  Choulet  had  kindly  sent  one  of  his  domestics  to  the 
station,  and  we  recognized  each  other  with  no  means  of  intro- 
duction except  a  card  in  his  hand  and  a  couple  of  grunts.  A 
Chinese  driver  buttoned  his  heavy  cotton-lined  coat  about  his 
neck,  ushered  us  into  an  open  carriage  built  for  one  and  a  half, 
and  we  started  for  the  Cathedral,  about  three  miles  away  over  a 
rather  open  country. 

98 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  protected  my  knees  with  a  traveling  bag  and  slapped  my 
hands  occasionally  till  we  reached  the  church,  an  imposing 
Gothic  structure  of  gray  brick  and  stone,  large  enough  for  a 
thousand  sittings.  The  entire  Mission  compound  is  surrounded 
by  a  brick  wall  and  is  entered  by  a  gateway  leading  to  the  front 
door  of  the  Cathedral.  I  was  conducted  to  my  room,  a  large  one, 
white-washed,  with  the  usual  absence  of  pictures  and  rugs. 
The  rough  board  floor  was,  however,  painted  red  and  a  stove 
about  ten  feet  high,  hidden  in  brick  with  white  cement,  looked 
and  felt  comfortable.  In  the  sacristy  and  the  church  itself, 
where  there  is  habitually  no  heat,  I  caught  a  slight  impression 
of  what  it  must  mean  to  say  and  hear  Mass  on  bitter  cold  days 
through  a  long  Manchurian  winter.  How  little  we  stay-at- 
home  Christians  realize  our  comforts,  that  always  seem  to  be 
demanding  more! 

Bishop  Choulet,  another  alumnus  of  the  Paris  Seminary, 
greeted  me  after  his  Mass  and,  as  usual,  I  was  made  to  feel  at 
home  immediately.  I  had  to  look  for  the  Bishop's  ring  to  identify 
him  but  I  soon  found  that  he  was  the  only  European  priest 
in  Mukden.  Those  of  his  missioners  who  are  not  in  the  war  are 
scattered  over  the  vicariate  and  the  Bishop  has  in  his  household 
three  Chinese  priests,  whom  I  met  at  the  table — one  rather 
delicate,  about  fifty-two  years  old,  the  other  two  ordained  more 
recently.  Bishop  Choulet  has  been  in  Manchuria  since  1880. 
He  recently  met  a  great  loss  in  the  death  of  his  coadjutor,  Bishop 
Sage,  who  was  only  recently  consecrated  and  on  whom  the  older 
Bishop  had  begun  to  lean.  I  asked  if  he  had  applied  for  another 
coadjutor,  and  his  gesture  plainly  told  the  impossibility  under 
present  circumstances  of  expecting  such  help. 

A  Chinese  City. 

I  spent  Saturday  and  Sunday  at  Mukden.  It  is  a  typical 
Chinese  city,  ancient  and  dusty,  with  nothing  especially  attrac- 
tive, but  it  marked  my  first  dip  into  Chinese  life  and  I  found  it 
very  interesting. 

The  head-dress  of  the  Manchurian  women,  even  the  poor, 
makes  them  look  quite  stately,  and  many  of  the  men  continue 
to  wear  their  queues.     Long  coats  are  in  evidence  everywhere, 

99 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  winter  is  in  the  air,  with  furs  dangling  in  the  shops,  ears 
covered,  and  clothing  stuffed. 

The  Bishop  told  me  about  the  Cathedral  as  we  started  for  our 
walk.  The  former  church  was  burnt  to  the  ground  by  the 
Boxers,  and  with  it  perished  Bishop  Choulet's  immediate 
predecessor,  two  priests  (one  a  Chinese),  two  French  nuns,  and 
about  three  hundred  Chinese  Christians.  The  Government 
later  paid  to  the  Catholic  Mission  an  indemnity,  which  was  used 
in  part  for  the  construction  of  the  new  Cathedral,  another  tribute 
to  the  skill,  patience  and  economies  of  the  Paris  Seminary 
priests.  Its  two  towers  can  be  seen  for  miles.  Its  clerestory  is 
supported  by  stone  pillars.  As  at  Seoul,  the  strength  of  construc- 
tion is  revealed  within.  The  apse  contains,  besides  the  main 
altar,  several  side-altars  and  confessionals.  A  priest  planned 
and  supervised  this  building  in  all  its  details.  There  is  no  fres- 
coing— I  have  seen  little  of  such  decoration  in  any  church  here — 
but  the  sacristy  and  vestment  cases  seem  to  be  well-equipped 
for  the  services  of  the  Church,  and  the  altar  linen  is  always  in 
excellent  condition. 

As  we  passed  beyond  the  church  gate  the  Bishop  pointed 
to  a  Chinese  monument  directly  opposite,  which  was  erected 
at  the  Government's  expense  in  reparation  for  the  massacred 
Christians. 

We  soon  turned  into  the  narrow  streets,  dodged  two-wheeled 
carts  of  various  types,  shooed  mangy  dogs  out  of  our  path, 
exhibiting  ourselves  as  the  only  white  men  in  sight;  and  after 
I  had  purchased  a  Chinese  skull  cap  for  fifteen  cents  (the  man 
asked  twenty  for  it)  took  a  tramcar  for  the  American  Consulate. 

The  tramcar  had  accommodations  for  at  least  fifteen  people 
besides  the  driver  and  conductor.  It  was  "trammed"  by  two  little 
donkeys,  who  had  a  trick  of  balking  at  the  switches  so  as  to 
miss  them.  This  frequently  compelled  a  group  of  bystanders 
to  push  the  car  back  while  the  donkeys  rested. 

The  American  Consulate  looks  like  a  heathen  temple,  which 
in  fact  it  was  before  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  our  good  old  Uncle 
Sam. 

I  paid  my  respects  and  we  returned  to  the  Cathedral,  visiting 
later  the  nuns  in  the  adjoining  enclosure — three  French  women 

100 


MUKDEN 

'A  typical  Chinese  city,  ancient  and  dusty."     {p.  gg.) 


THE    CATHEDRAL   OF   MUKDEN 
'Its  two  towers  can  he  seen  for  miles."     {p.  loo.) 


OBSERV  AT  ION  S    IN    THE    ORIENT 

who  are  training  Chinese  virgins  for  missionary  work  in  the 
vicariate.  Vocations  are  quite  plentiful  and  the  assistance 
given  by  these  excellent  Chinese  women  in  the  various  missions 
is  precious.  They  wear  a  blue  dress  and  when  seen  individually 
are  hardly  distinguishable  as  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  Church. 

Sunday  at  Mukden. 

The  Angelas  bell  rings  in  Mukden  at  five  o'clock.  A  little 
early,  you  say.  Yes,  but  these  poor  Chinese  must  go  to  work 
and  they  like  their  Church  too  well  to  miss  Mass.  My  Mass 
was  at  six- thirty  and  several  hundred  persons,  men  and  women, 
were  at  their  devotions  w^hen  I  entered  the  church.  Many  of 
these  received  Holy  Communion  and  their  thanksgiving  prayers 
were  recited  aloud  by  all  in  a  peculiar,  syncopated  tone  that  to 
me  at  least  was  not  displeasing.  The  women  all  wore  black 
veils  over  their  high  head-gear  and  the  men's  heads  were  covered. 

The  second  and  last  Mass  was  at  eight-thirty,  and  as  I 
watched  the  Chinese  entering  the  church  a  group  of  Europeans 
passed  through  the  courtyard.  Shortly  afterwards  a  Red  Cross 
nurse  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  sacristy  (where  I  had  gone 
hoping  to  find  a  stove)  and  asked  me  in  good  English  if  I  would 
hear  the  confession  of  an  English-speaking  person  who  could 
confess  in  neither  French  nor  Chinese.  We  searched  for  the 
Bishop  and  found  him  at  the  end  of  the  church,  seated  in  his 
own  confessional.  When  he  learned  that  I  had  gone  through 
in  Japan  certain  very  strict  formalities  required  in  the  Far 
East,  he  at  once  gave  the  necessary  faculties. 

During  Mass  I  was  an  interested  spectator  and  worshipper 
at  the  end  of  the  church,  and  all  that  I  saw  was  edifying,  my 
one  regret  being  that  I  could  not  understand  the  sermon  preached 
by  a  young  Chinese  priest. 

At  the  close  of  Mass,  as  I  was  shivering  in  the  courtyard 
trying  to  get  a  snapshot  of  the  sortie,  the  Europeans  made 
themselves  known.  Most  of  them  were  connected  with  the 
Chinese  Postal  Service.  The  nurse,  who  turned  out  to  be  a 
Japanese,  gave  me  her  card.  She  is  a  Miss  Ursule  U.  Yuasa, 
head  nurse  of  the  Red  Cross  Japanese  Hospital,  and  is  from 
Tokyo.    She  knows  Miss  Nobechi  and  is  a  very  good  Catholic. 

101 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


A  member  of  the  European  party  is  Mr.  K — ,  from  Meath— 
if  I  am  right — Ireland,  who  later  in  the  day  called  at  the  Bishop's 
residence  to  tell  me  some  of  his  experiences.  He  is  an  accountant 
for  the  Chinese  Postal  authorities  and  has  lived  in  various  parts 
of  China  during  a  period  of  fourteen  years.  His  parents,  brothers, 
and  sisters  are  still  in  Ireland  and  he  is  anxious  to  see  his  home 
again,  but  he  likes  his  life  in  China  and  appears  content  to 
resume  it  even  if  he  does  take  a  furlough  one  of  these  after-war 
days.  I  asked  him  how  he  managed  to  pass  the  time  and  learned 
that  the  small  foreign  settlement  here  keeps  up  a  constant 
round  of  simple  recreations  according  to  the  season — tennis, 
golf,  daily  "at  homes,"  and  so  forth  and  so  forth.  He  has  a 
little  Chinese  house  to  himself  with  a  couple  of  servants,  and 
the  wolf  never  camps  on  his  front  door  step.  (Speaking  of 
wolves,  did  I  mention  the  fact  that  in  Korea  and  Manchuria 
tigers  and  wolves  are  not  unknown?) 

Mr.  K —  paid  a  glowing  tribute  to  the  sacrifices  of  French 
missioners,  whom  he  has  met  along  the  coast-line  and  in  the 
remotest  districts  of  this  great  country.  I  found  that  he  was 
well  acquainted  too,  with  the  other  Irishman,  Mr.  C — ,  whom  I 
met  in  Nagasaki  and  expect  to  see  again  in  Shanghai. 

Benediction  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament  is  given  on  Sundays  at 
eleven-thirty.  The  hour  is  unusual  but  it  affords  an  opportunity 
for  the  Christians  who  live  at  a  distance  to  attend.  They  usually 
go  out  into  the  village  after  Mass,  returning  for  Benediction 
and  then  going  to  their  homes,  after  fasting  the  entire  morning 
if  they  have  received  Holy  Communion.  The  seminarians  assist 
at  Benediction,  most  of  them  in  the  gallery  where  their  Superior, 
a  French  priest,  presides  at  the  organ.  The  Benediction  hymns 
are  well  rendered. 

Before  going  out  to  the  church  for  this  service  I  heard  the 
strains  of  martial  music,  and  as  the  sound  became  louder  I  went 
into  the  courtyard  just  in  time  to  see  a  company  of  blue-uni- 
formed cadets  form  in  line,  break  into  twos,  and  enter  the  Cathe- 
dral. The  band  was  certainly  audible  and  the  young  soldiers, 
who  turned  out  to  be  students  from  the  Cathedral  school, 
acquitted  themselves  quite  creditably.  That  afternoon  we 
saw  these  boys  at  recreation  in  their  school  grounds.     They 

102 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


had  laid  aside  their  uniforms  and  were  evidently  more  at  home 
in  their  Chinese  skirts.  They  come  from  outside  the  city  as  a 
rule,  and  live  at  the  school,  which  is  supervised  by  a  Chinese 
priest  and  two  lay-professors.  Some  of  them  get  positions  as 
clerks,  others  return  to  the  farms,  few  being  in  a  position  to  take 
up  higher  studies. 

At  the  Orphanage. 

On  our  way  to  this  school  we  visited  the  orphanage,  my  first 
experience  of  the  kind  in  China.  The  building,  like  all  the  others 
connected  with  the  Catholic  Mission  in  Mukden,  is  substantial 
and  in  excellent  condition,  but  the  Sisters — three  Europeans, 
who  have  had  no  recruits  since  the  war,  and  several  Chinese 
virgins — are  at  their  wits'  end  to  provide  for  their  charges. 

It  was  Sunday  and  the  children  were  all  in  neat  condition, 
with  working  materials  out  of  sight.  I  should  have  preferred  to 
see  them  on  a  week-day.  There  were  three  divisions,  each  in  its 
own  room  that  served  as  workroom,  playroom,  and  dormitory. 
Nothing  could  be  less  attractive  to  an  American  than  these 
rooms.  The  walls  were  white  and  bare  with  the  exception  of  a 
little  framed  oleograph  of  the  Crucifixion,  and  on  either  side  was 
a  series  of  stalls  raised  above  the  floor  about  two  feet  and  lined 
with  straw  mats.  These  were  the  beds  and  the  children  enjoy 
them,  especially  in  winter,  because  a  fire,  built  at  one  end,  sends 
its  heat  underneath  so  that  the  little  ones — the  big  ones,  also — 
practically  sleep  on  top  of  an  oven.  We  had  found  the  same 
arrangement  at  the  Seminary  and  at  the  boys'  scRool.  This 
heating  system  is  also  in  use  at  the  novitiate  of  the  Chinese 
virgins,  and,  for  that  matter,  quite  commonly  in  this  distressful 
country. 

The  oldest  children  were  nearing  twenty  years.  For  two 
of  t'hem  who  stood  in  the  line  for  our  observation  husbands  had 
recently  been  found  and  they  were  to  be  married  that  week. 
As  the  brides-elect  were  pointed  out,  however,  the  Bishop  re- 
called that  in  the  case  of  one  a  close  blood  relationship  had  been 
discovered.  A  dispensation  was  possible  but  not  necessary, 
because  another  husband  could  be  secured  for  the  rejected  lady 
and  another  girl  selected  for  the  male  relative  in  question.    The 

103 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Sisters  were  surprised  to  learn  of  the  relationship  and  for  a  mo- 
ment seemed  disturbed  because  the  not-to-be-married-to-each- 
other  couple  had  already  been  made  acquainted  and  explanations 
would  be  in  order.  However,  the  Sister  in  charge  agreed  that 
the  matter  was  very  simple.  During  the  discussion  of  the  case 
the  children  all  stood  reverently  listening,  but  fortunately  the 
language  spoken  was  not  theirs.  The  Bishop  passed  from  one  to 
the  other,  allowing  each  to  kiss  his  ring,  and  all  courtesied  as  we 
left  the  room. 

The  picture  that  stands  out  most  strongly  in  my  memory, 
however,  is  that  of  ten  little  ones  about  one  or  two  years  old 
on  one  bed,  with  an  infant  born  only  a  few  days  keeping  them 
company.  Practically  all  of  these  had  been  abandoned  by  their 
parents,  and  on  some  of  the  little  faces  scabs  still  rested  in  spite 
of  motherly  care.  They  were  so  serious,  these  wee  ones,  as 
they  stood  in  line  on  top  of  their  oven-bed.  And  then  I  learned 
that  these  ten  were  privileged.  They  had  been  taken  and  others 
refused,  because  there  was  not  enough  food  for  all.  The  Sister 
in  charge  read  my  thoughts  and  assured  me  that  they  never 
refused  a  sick  child,  nor  one  who  was  in  danger  of  being  killed 
as  useless.  The  struggles  of  some  poor  human  beings  to  keep 
life  in  their  bodies  make  a  man  almost  ashamed  to  take  a  square 
meal.  The  crumbs  that  we  American  Catholics  leave,  and  the 
unnecessary  things  that  we  eat,  would  easily  feed  all  the  aban- 
doned babies  in  China. 

Siberian  Breezes. 

The  thermometer  was  well  below  the  freezing  point  on 
Monday  morning,  and  I  found  myself  rubbing  my  fingers  in  the 
church,  but  the  faithful  Christians  were  at  their  devotions  and 
the  Chinese  priest,  invalid  as  he  is,  was  engaged  in  his  meditation 
as  I  entered  at  six-fifteen. 

Later  I  was  glad  to  get  close  to  a  little  stove  in  the  dining- 
room,  where  the  Bishop  soon  joined  me.  He  told  me  then  that 
in  a  week  or  ten  days  he  would  start  on  the  Confirmation  tour 
which  his  late  coadjutor  was  to  have  made.  He  would  be  gone 
until  Christmas  and  would  travel  most  of  the  time  in  a  two-wheel- 
ed open  wagon.    I  shivered  at  the  thought  and  asked  him  why  he 

104 


FRENCH   NUNS   AT   .MUKDEN  WHO   TtLVlN    CHINESE 
VIRGINS   FOR  MISSION  WORK 


THE    CLOISTER   IN   THE   GRAY-BRICK   COMPOUND   OF   MUKDEN 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

did  not  make  this  tour  in  the  early  autumn  or  late  spring,  rather 
than  the  severe  winter  months.  He  smiled  at  my  simplicity 
and  gave  his  reasons.  The  people  are  in  the  fields  during  the 
milder  months;  and  men,  women,  and  children  all  toil.  The 
missioner  must  accommodate  himself  to  the  people,  selecting  a 
time  when  work  is  dull.  Again,  there  are  no  roads  in  the  country 
and  when  the  ground  is  frozen  he  can  make  better  time  journey- 
ing over  the  fields. 

But  why  did  he  use  an  open  wagon?  Because  the  fresh,  cold 
air  kept  him  from  getting  "sea-sick."  And  did  he  always  man- 
age to  sleep  at  a  missioner 's  house?  By  no  means.  He  very  often 
spends  the  night  in  a  Chinese  inn — which  in  these  small  villages 
is  probably  unspeakable,  although  the  Bishop  did  not  say  so. 
He  admitted,  however,  that  he  could  not,  as  a  rule,  say  Mass  in 
one  of  these  places.  But  he  told  me  to  recall  that  by  railroad 
he  can  now  reach,  or  get  in  reasonable  distance  of,  quite  a  few 
missions,  and  that  when  he  arrived  in  Manchuria  in  1880  there 
were  no  railways  here  at  all. 

A  magnificent  equipage  came  for  me  at  nine-fifteen.  It  was 
lined  with  gold  on  the  outside  and  closed  with  glass  and  leather. 
It  had  a  driver  and  a  footman,  and  looked  like  a  carriage  which 
had  waited  outside  the  Cathedral  door  Sunday  afternoon  when 
the  French  Consul  was  visiting  the  Bishop.  I  entered  in  state, 
after  shaking  hands  with  my  friends,  and  at  the  successful 
close  of  a  two  mile  drive  was  deposited  at  the  railway  station. 
The  rig  cost  thirty  cents,  but  it  was  worth  it  because  my  clothing 
was  light  and  the  weather  unkind. 

On  a  Chinese  Railway. 

Mr.  K —  was  at  the  train  with  Mr.  P — ,  who  is  the  pioneer  Postal 
Service  man  in  Manchuria  and  was  in  Mukden  when  the  Boxers 
burned  the  church.  He  told  me  that  the  Christians  held  out  for 
three  days  before  the  Boxers  gained  an  entrance,  and  that  in 
some  churches  the  Christians  were  successful  in  beating  off 
the  attacks. 

The  train  to  Tientsin  is  quite  comfortable,  and  as  there  are 
very  few  long  distance  travelers  at  this  season  there  was  plenty 
of  room.    During  the  journey  I  met  only  two  other  passengers,  a 

105 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Korean  young  man  and  his  wife.  This  Korean  studied  in  Wash- 
ington and  speaks  EngHsh  very  well.  He  knows  Bishop  Mutel 
of  Seoul  and  his  first  inquiry — it  is  the  ordinary  one  from  a 
non-Japanese  in  Korea  or  Japan — was,  "What  do  you  think 
of  the  Japanese?" 

Floods  have  been  playing  havoc  with  this  line,  and  when 
in  Yokohama  I  was  told  that  a  through  passage  was  uncertain. 
We  pushed  on,  however,  hoping  to  arrive  in  Tientsin  the  next 
morning. 

At  Chin-chin-fu,  a  walled  city  about  a  hundred  and 
thirty-five  miles  south  of  Mukden,  I  met  on  the  platform 
a  Scotchman  who  is  employed  here  by  the  railway  company. 
He  told  me  that  there  are  several  other  Britishers  along 
the  line,  as  considerable  English  money  is  invested  in  this 
Chinese  Government  railway.  He  was  acquainted  with  the 
local  French  priest  who  has  gone  back  to  France  for  enlist- 
ment in  the  army. 

The  houses  in  the  villages  along  the  line  seem  to  be  of  mud. 
Each  house  has  its  yard  and  fence.  At  one  point  I  saw  an  army 
of  coolies  repairing  damage  done  by  the  floods.  They  were 
balancing  twin  baskets  of  dirt  on  their  shoulders.  I  noticed 
here  on  the  station  platform  hundreds  of  pieces  of  straw-matting 
coarsely  braided,  and  further  south  I  saw  along  the  railway  bank 
hundreds  of  improvised  huts  for  which  the  straw-matting  was 
used  as  a  protection. 

Towards  Tientsin,  about  nine  o'clock  that  evening  I  was 
getting  sleepy,  and  as  I  had  paid  for  some  kind  of  rest  I  started 
out  to  make  inquiries  from  the  car-boy,  a  fat  Chinese  dressed 
in  soiled  white  garments. 

"Ah! — ugh! — ah! — ah! — "  and  he  pointed  in  the  direction  of 
the  engine. 

"All  right,  old  man,  good  night!"  I  said  to  him,  and  he 
appeared  much  pleased  at  his  success. 

In  half  an  hour  the  mystery  was  solved.  When  we  reached 
a  place  called  Chin-wang-tao  a  bundle  of  bedding  was  thrown 
on  the  train.  This,  spread  over  three  seats,  gave  quite  sufficient 
accommodation  and  I  turned  in,  thankful  not  to  be  out  in  the 
cold  under  a  straw  mat. 

106 


THE  OBSERVER  AMONG  THE   SEMINARIANS   OF  MUKDEN 


LEAVING   BISHOP   CHOULET'S   HOUSE 
'A  magnificent  equipage  came  for  me —  The  rig  cost  thirty  cents."     (p.  105.) 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

At  six  o'clock  we  were  getting  near  Tientsin.  The  fields  on 
both  sides  of  the  track  were  under  water  and  houses  on  slight 
elevations  were  quite  surrounded.  Although  we  were  a  day  and  a 
night  south  of  Mukden  I  noticed  ice  on  the  streams  and  the 
brown  earth  looked  hard. 

I  have  been  interested  in  the  guards  at  railway  stations. 
Wherever  we  stopped  there  was  a  line-up  of  soldiers,  from  six  to 
a  dozen,  standing  at  "present  arms." 

On  inquiry  I  learned  that  they  are  special  police,  selected 
from  the  families  of  ex-bandits  to  watch  the  first  and  second  class 
compartments  so  that  nothing  shall  be  stolen.  A  major  and 
captain  were  pointed  out  to  me  at  one  stop  as  once  notorious 
bandits.    Eccolo!    Tientsin — What  next? 

A  Flooded  City. 

I  had  often  read  of  floods  in  China  but  I  did  not  expect  to 
run  into  one.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  although  conditions  are  yet 
bad,  the  worst  is  over.  This  section  of  China  is  a  great  plain 
and  the  mountains  that  bound  it  on  the  west  have  been  bared 
of  trees,  so  that  when  rain  falls  on  them  it  comes  down  the  steeps 
in  a  rush,  finds  its  way  into  rivers  and  fills  them  until  they 
overflow,  covering  fields  and  driving  thousands  upon  thousands 
out  of  their  homes. 

Fortunately  in  this  recent  flood  the  rivers  rose  very  gradually 
and  people  had  a  chance  to  find  some  sort  of  shelter.  If,  as  is 
usual  in  America,  the  house  had  a  second  story,  retreat  would  not 
be  so  difficult,  but  the  Chinese  house  is  a  low  one-storied  structure 
and  if  a  family  cannot  roost  under  the  ceiling  it  must  find 
accommodation  elsewhere. 

Tientsin  itself  has  suffered  much.  It  is  a  large  city  with 
nearly  eight  hundred  thousand  Chinese  and  more  than  five 
thousand  foreigners — one-tenth  of  whom  are  Americans — 
who  were  also  inconvenienced,  because  a  flood  is  no  respecter 
of  persons  unless  they  live  on  a  hill  and  hills  are  scarce  around 
here.  Photographs  picture  more  clearly  than  words  the  condi- 
tions in  this  place,  although  they  do  not  make  one  realize  it  as 
if  he  were  looking  at  the  ruins. 

107 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Much  of  the  city  was  flooded  when  I  arrived  at  six-thirty,  on 
Tuesday  morning,  November  5,  but  I  did  not  reahze  it  for  a  few 
hours.  Around  the  station  and  in  the  heart  of  the  concessions 
the  water  had  receded  and  I  found  the  usual  group  of  rickshaw 
men  waiting  for  a  fare.  I  selected  one  a  little  less  dirty  than  the 
rest  and  presented  a  Chinese  address  of  the  Cathedral.  There 
was  some  excitement  over  this,  because  there  was  little  else 
going  on,  and  at  least  seven  horse-men  got  into  an  argument 
concerning  my  destination. 

The  cold  was  penetrating,  however,  and  I  gave  a  few  grunts 
which  brought  a  speedy  decision  from  one  who  seemed  to  be 
respected  by  the  others  and  who  said  very  distinctly,  "French 
Church."  I  had  often  been  told  that  this  is  the  name  by  which 
the  Catholic  Church  is  designated  in  the  Far  East  and  I  was 
satisfied  that  I  would  soon  land  safely. 

My  driver  buttoned  his  ragged  cotton-lined  coat  around  his 
shoulders  and  trotted  off.  After  twenty  minutes  he  stopped 
at  the  door  of  the  English  (Protestant)  Church.  Then  there  was 
trouble,  but  we  found  a  policeman  who  started  us  over  again, 
and  in  fifteen  minutes  more  I  was  dumped,  not  into  the  Cathe- 
dral courtyard,  but  into  that  of  St.  Louis  Church,  which,  fortu- 
nately for  me,  is  a  Catholic  church.  By  this  time  my  hands 
were  numb  and  I  was  shivering,  while  my  driver  was  perspiring 
freely.  If  perspiration  takes  poison  out  of  the  system  then 
rickshaw  drivers  ought  to  be  a  healthy  troop,  but  I  am  told  that 
their  lives  are  short. 

I  found  in  the  church  a  young  man  from  New  York  whom  I 
met  later. 

The  sun  was  kind  that  morning,  and  I  thawed  out  after  Mass. 

After  showing  me  his  books  and  giving  some  suggestions  on 
mission  literature.  Father  Hubrecht  arranged  to  send  my  bags 
to  the  Cathedral  and  to  take  me  to  various  places  in  his  own 
neighborhood.  This  included  the  Procures  of  the  Lazarist 
Fathers  and  the  Jesuits.  Both  establishments  are  quite  large 
for  their  purpose  and  the  ground  attached  is  extensive.  We 
visited,  also,  the  American  Consulate,  where  I  found  the  Vice- 
Consul.a  Catholic  from  St.  Louis,  glad  to  see  an  American  priest. 
He  has  been  here  only  six  weeks. 

108 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Around  the  corner  we  called  on  a  Mr.  Jefferson,  with  whom 
I  had  had  some  correspondence.  Mr.  Jefferson  is  not  a  descend- 
ant of  the  great  American.  He  is  a  Chinese  gentleman  from 
Canton,  educated  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands,  but  his  real  name 
sounds  enough  like  Jefferson  to  allow  him  the  use  in  English  of 
that  patronymic.  He  is  the  editor  of  The  China  Sun,  a  small 
paper  with  large  ideas  and  with  a  particularly  clever  appeal  to 
Chinese  learners  of  English  as  well  as  to  English  students  of 
Chinese.  At  the  end  of  every  sentence  or  long  phrase  in  English, 
the  Chinese  translation  is  given  in  ideographs.  The  paper  is 
not  professedly  Catholic  but  it  is  directed  by  a  man  whose  faith 
is  strong  and  whose  heart  is  large. 

The  Cathedral  Compound. 

We  reached  the  Cathedral  at  noon.  This  Mission  is  only 
five  years  old  and  I  was  not  prepared  for  the  surprise  which 
I  received  when  I  saw  at  the  end  of  a  long  street  the  Cathedral 
itself,  a  great  pile  of  brick  converted  into  a  very  respectable 
Byzantine  church,  large  enough  to  hold  two  thousand  people — 
at  least,  that  many  Chinese.  To  the  left  was  the  Bishop's 
residence,  a  long  two-story  building  enclosed  by  a  gray  brick 
wall.  The  water  from  the  flood  had  been  pumped  over  improvised 
dykes  and  the  ground  was  muddy,  but  we  reached  the  house  on 
planks,  and  as  I  passed  along  I  saw,  high  and  dry,  the  scow 
which  the  priests  had  been  using  to  get  over  to  the  church  and 
down  to  the  heart  of  the  city. 

The  priests  here  are  Lazarists  (or  Vincentians),  belonging 
to  the  Congregation  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul.  I  found  them  in  the 
chapel,  a  little  group  of  four  with  Bishop  Dumond  and  two 
Chinese  priests.  Bishop  Dumond  presided  in  the  refectory,  and 
a  student  from  the  Seminary  read  in  Chinese.  This  exercise 
was  of  course  unintelligible  to  me,  but  not  uninteresting.  The 
realization  that  everybody  except  myself  was  listening  intelli- 
gently, the  earnest  manner  of  the  student,  his  sharp  voice,  strange 
inflections,  and  an  occasional  hesitancy  followed  by  a  prolonged 
vowel — all  this,  noted  for  the  first  time,  held  me  to  the  end  of 
the  meal,  the  ordeal  being  considerably  lessened  by  the  efficient 

109 


VBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

work  of  an  attentive  waiter  backed  by  something  of  a  cook  in 
the  unexplored  rear. 

The  diocesan  Seminary  at  Tientsin  is  in  a  substantial  building 
next  to  the  Bishop's  house  and  has  about  forty  students.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  church  is  a  school  for  Chinese  boys,  where 
lay  professors  are  employed  especially  to  teach  the  Chinese 
language.  Behind  this  building  is  another  used  by  the  native 
Sisters,  who  number  fourteen;  and  the  adjacent  hospital  has 
here  its  separate  building  for  the  destitute. 

After  Mass  the  next  morning  Father  Fleury,  the  Procurator, 
took  me  to  the  new  church.  On  the  way  we  stopped  at  the  house 
of  a  parishioner,  whose  furniture  was  topsy-turvy  but  who  was 
doing  his  best  to  straighten  things  out.  Everybody  seems  to  have 
suffered,  and  everybody  was  patient,  but  the  nights  were  cold 
and  I  wondered  what  protection  a  straw-matting  exposed  to  the 
north  wind  could  give. 

I  have  been  interested  in  the  effect  of  the  flood  on  our  Catholic 
buildings,  especially  the  Cathedral,  which  had  been  recently 
finished.  Basements  are  unknown  here  and  Mrs.  Water  simply 
spread  her  skirts  and  floated  right  in,  filling  the  entire  edifice  to  a 
height  of  at  least  two  feet.  Imagine  the  heart  of  the  Procurator, 
who  had  passed  sleepless  nights  planning,  and  long  hard  days 
supervising,  the  construction  of  his  basilica!  The  floor  in  many 
places  had  sunk,  loosening  the  rough  tiles,  and  threatening  the 
great  columns  that  have  to  support  the  roof  of  a  church  ample 
enough  to  accommodate  two  thousand  people.  Back  of  the 
high  altar  was  a  suspicious  cave-in  that  made  the  heavy  altar 
itself  an  object  of  concern.  But  the  priest  was  glad  in  the  re- 
flection that  the  columns  and  the  sidewalls  were  not  affected — • 
glad  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  meant  more  Mexican  dollars  or 
Chinese  taels,  both  of  which  he  lacks. 

That  afternoon  the  Seminary  Superior  pi' "-ted  me  over  the 
dykes  to  the  hospital.  I  really  thought  that  I  was  on  a  lake 
dotted  with  islands,  but  I  soon  discovered  that  the  islands  were 
abandoned  houses  and  that  city  blocks  of  land  were  under 
the  water. 

The  hospital  had  been  recently  built  and  well  equipped, 
but  it  revealed  the  havoc  made  by  the  flood.     All  the  paying 

110 


A   FLOODED    STREET   IN   TIENTSIN 


HOW   THE   HOMELESS   WERE   HOUSED 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

patients  had  been  removed  and  everything  was  at  sixes  and 
sevens,  but  the  nuns  were  making  the  most  of  it.  They  had  been 
through  worse  than  this  before.  We  found  the  Superioress, 
a  white-capped,  ruddy-faced,  rather  large  French  Sister  of 
Charity,  bossing  a  lot  of  coohes,  but  she  suspended  operations  to 
recite  aloud  the  multipHcity  of  troubles  that  the  flood  had  brought 
to  the  buildings,  to  the  patients,  to  the  doctors,  and  to  everybody 
concerned.  And  this  was  another  new  building.  And  they  had 
no  money.    La!  La!  Helas!  Misere! 

Then  she  woke  up  to  the  fact  that  I  am  an  American,  and 
she  asked  me  then  and  there  for  seven  thousand  dollars!  Seven 
cents  was  nearer  the  limit  of  my  possessions,  as  I  had  just 
arrived  and  had  not  secured  any  Chinese  money,  so  I  referred 
her  to  Sister  Joanna,  the  sole  American  nun  in  the  establishment, 
whose  brother  is  the  Bishop  of  Richmond,  Virginia.  But 
Sister  Joanna,  who  evidently  was  never  trained  to  pick  pockets, 
threw  up  her  hands  and  admitted  that  in  several  years  spent  in 
China  she  had  gathered  from  us  (that  is,  from  the  United  States) 
just  ten  dollars.  The  Superioress  is,  however,  building  her  hopes 
on  America. 

An  American  Nun. 

During  the  Boxer  attack  about  twenty  years  ago.  Sister 
Joanna  was  among  the  nuns  whose  house  was  riddled  with 
bullets  and  pierced  with  cannon  balls.  Sister  Joanna,  herself,  I 
learned,  had  a  very  narrow  escape  on  that  occasion.  She  had 
been  told  by  her  Superior  to  go  to  bed  and  rest,  after  a  nerve- 
racking  period,  and  she  obeyed.  A  few  moments  later,  however, 
a  cannon  ball  entered  above  her  head  and  plunged  through  the 
opposite  wall.  Terrified  and  feeling  that  every  moment  would 
be  the  last,  she  decided  that  her  Superior,  in  sending  her  to 
rest,  had  not  intended  that  she  should  be  killed.  So  the  good 
nun  hurried  down  to  the  lower  floor,  leaving  her  white-winged 
cornette  on  the  bed.  When  later  the  Sisters  returned  to  this 
room  they  found  that  the  cornette  had  been  hit  by  a  cannon  ball, 
which  would  have  finished  Sister  Joanna  had  she  remained. 

Several  priests.  Brothers,  and  Sisters  were  killed  in  Tientsin 
by  the  Boxers  and  later  I  visited  the  Mission  where  they  met 

111 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

their  death.  I  saw  also  a  little  memorial  chapel  to  which  the 
Sisters  of  Charity  come  daily  to  attend  a  neighboring  dispen- 
sary and  where  they  may  say  an  occasional  prayer  in  the  little 
cemetery  adjoining.  Here  are  tombstones  with  names  engraved 
— including  that  of  an  Irish  nun — but  the  sacred  remains  were 
lost  in  the  holocaust. 

I  met  another  English-speaking  nun  at  the  hospital  who,  so  far 
as  she  could  recall,  had  not  heard  a  sermon  or  an  instruction  in 
English  for  more  than  thirty  years.  Sister  Joanna  herself  has 
been  in  China  over  twenty  years.  Both  nuns  are  happy  in  their 
work,  and  both  regret  that  the  English-speaking  Sisters  of 
Charity  are  so  meagrely  represented  here,  where  there  is  a  growing 
need  for  Sisters  who  can  speak  English. 

Where  English  is  Spoken. 

The  hospital  is  practically  in  the  great  compound  occupied 
and  owned  by  the  Catholic  Mission  of  Tientsin, 

Just  in  front  of  the  compound  is  the  Ecole  Alunici pal  Francaise, 
a  school  conducted  by  the  Marist  Brothers  for  Chinese  boys, 
Catholic  and  pagan,  who  wish  to  learn  French  so  as  to  secure 
positions  under  French  supervision.  The  Director  of  the  school 
speaks  English  and  has  a  class  in  that  language.  He  is  assisted 
by  six  teaching  Brothers.  These  Brothers  have  also  a  school 
for  European  boys;  and  for  both  schools  English-speaking 
helpers  from  America  are  desired  and  badly  needed. 

I  stayed  at  Tientsin  longer  than  I  had  planned.  The  Cur6 
of  St.  Louis  Church,  which  is  placed  among  the  legations,  was 
anxious  to  give  to  the  English-speaking  members  of  his  congre- 
gation— a  considerable  proportion  in  all — a  sermon  in  English, 
and  I  promised  to  return  from  Tsi-nan  so  as  to  meet  his  wishes. 
When  however,  the  time  came  to  start  for  Tsi-nan,  a  day's 
run  down  into  the  province  of  Shantung,  it  was  discovered 
that  as  railway  lines  had  been  broken  passage  must  be  made  in 
boats  at  the  breaking  point,  and  that  I  could  not  possibly  reach 
Tsi-nan  in  time  to  get  back  to  Tientsin  on  Saturday  night. 
So  I  stayed  on,  and  found  it  well  worth  while. 

On  the  road  near  the  Cathedral,  which  lies  on  the  edge  of  the 
city,  there  is  a  school  for  Chinese  girls,  in  charge  of  a  layman  who 

112 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

is  assisted  by  two  Chinese  Catholic  women.  This  school,  like 
the  others,  is  built  of  gray  brick  and  is  very  presentable.  Since 
its  establishment  a  Protestant  denomination  has  located  a  similar 
work  on  a  large  scale  close  by,  but  the  Catholic  school  seems 
not  to  have  lost  its  popularity.  The  plant  is,  however,  inadequate 
and  the  Mission  is  anxious  to  organize  it  on  a  large  scale,  with 
religious  in  charge.  The  girls  looked  very  neat  in  their  slit  coats, 
pantaloons,  and  polished  hair.  As  they  were  picking  up  some 
broken  English  when  we  entered  the  room  I  helped  to  put  the 
pieces  together.  The  Master,  a  good  Catholic,  and  the  Direct- 
ress, a  daily  communicant,  were  quite  pleased  to  exhibit  some 
of  their  fifty  words  on  this  occasion. 

ENGLISH — The  handwriting  is  on  the  wall  and  many  whose 
native  tongue  is  other  than  mine  realize  that  this,  the  commercial 
language  of  the  world,  has  come  into  the  Far  East  to  stay. 
Railroad  tickets  are  printed  in  Chinese  and  English.  Even  re- 
mote stations  along  most  of  the  line  use  both  languages  on 
their  signs. 

Also  on  the  way  to  the  heart  of  the  city  are  two  other  large 
buildings  of  interest  to  Catholics,  one  the  college  conducted  by 
the  Marist  Brothers  for  European  boys,  the  other  a  school  for 
European  girls. 

The  children  in  the  girl's  school  are  tutti  frutti — American, 
Chinese,  English,  Irish,  Italian,  and  Russian.  Many  of  them 
were  born  in  China.  A  pleasant  surprise  was  in  store  for  me 
here.  The  institution,  in  charge  of  the  Franciscan  Missionaries 
of  Mary,  is  under  a  Superioress  whose  name  in  the  world  was  pre- 
fixed with  a  Mc,  who  was  born  in  Ireland  and  brought  up  in 
New  York.  Sister  Mary  Lillian  is  her  name  and  as  she  had  not 
seen  an  American  priest  since  she  left  home  the  school  suffered 
for  a  while.  The  Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Mary  have  been 
friends  of  MaryknoU  from  the  beginning,  but  I  did  not  know 
that  they  had  even  one  American  Sister  in  China,  and,  in  fact, 
Sister  Lillian  could  recall  no  other, 

I  found  here,  also,  an  English  nun  who  has  been  in  correspond- 
ence with  MaryknoU  and  is  acquainted  with  happenings  at  that 

113 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

establishment.  The  Field  Afar  has  not  been  coming  here,  but 
the  Sisters  have  on  the  parlor  table  bound  copies  of  Our  Dumb 
Animals  and  Benziger's  Magazine,  the  only  friends  visiting  them 
from  overseas.  I  thought  of  the  exchanges  that  go  by  the  dozen 
into  our  waste-baskets  every  week;  and  I  thought,  too,  that 
if  all  the  convent  schools  in  the  United  States  would  purchase 
bound  copies  of  The  Field  Afar  for  their  reception  rooms  Mary- 
knoll  would  be  more  speedily  and  more  widely  known. 

American  Soldiers  at  Tientsin. 

There  are  twelve  hundred  American  soldiers  at  Tientsin 
and  they  are  comfortably  housed  in  buildings  erected  for  their 
use  under  a  lease,  which  I  understand  will  not  expire  for  seven 
or  eight  years.  I  met  several  of  our  soldiers  in  the  street  but 
no  Catholics  were  among  them. 

Later  in  the  week,  I  called  at  the  barracks  to  have  the 
Chaplain  (a  Protestant)  announce  the  presence  in  Tientsin  of  an 
American  priest,  but  I  found  that  the  Chaplain's  house  was  some 
distance  away.  The  quarter-master  showed  us  the  recreation- 
hall,  where  every  evening  a  moving-picture  entertainment  is 
given.  Soldiers  here,  as  I  learned  from  a  conversation  with  one, 
a  Catholic,  whom  I  met,  have  both  an  easy  and  a  hard  time; 
easy  because  they  have  little  to  do,  hard  because  they  have  few 
means  of  recreation.  I  wondered  as  I  listened  that  our  soldiers 
here  are  not  enervated  or  demoralized. 

From  the  barracks  we  went  in  search  of  the  Chaplain,  whose 
house  we  found  a  cozy  European  dwelling  furnished  in  good 
taste.  No  one  was  at  home  except  the  servant,  with  whom  I 
left  a  note  requesting  the  Chaplain  to  announce  that  I  would 
be  at  the  rectory  of  St.  Louis  Church  between  three  and  five  on 
Saturday  and  would  speak  on  Sunday  at  the  ten  o'clock  Mass. 
I  heard  afterwards  that  a  notice  had  been  placed  on  the  barracks 
bulletin  board,  and  doubtless  the  announcement  was  made  as 
requested,  but  only  one  soldier  turned  up  for  confession.  Several, 
however,  were  in  the  church  on  Sunday  morning.  I  am  quite 
convinced  that  the  proportion  of  Catholics  in  this  garrison  is 
small,  but  it  is  likely  to  be  larger,  and  at  present  there  is  no  one 
to  "gather  the  forces." 

114 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

An  Opening  for  Catholic  Associations. 

The  soldiers,  however,  are  not  the  only  English-speaking  in 
Tientsin.  There  are  some  hundreds  of  others,  among  whom 
are  scores  of  Catholics,  who,  when  they  attend  church,  must 
sit  through  a  sermon  in  French.  The  Cur6  of  St.  Louis  hears 
confessions  in  English  and  is  sympathetic  with  those  who  speak 
English  but  he  does  not  attempt  to  preach  in  that  language. 

I  ask  myself  constantly  what  can  be  done  for  Catholic 
Americans  tossed  high  and  dry  by  the  great  Pacific  along  the 
coast  of  Eastern  Asia.  They  should  be  organized,  brought 
into  touch  with  one  another,  encouraged  to  keep  their  Faith, 
and  made  acquainted  with  the  excellent  work  of  Catholic 
missions,  about  which  I  find  they  know  next  to  nothing,  usually 
through  no  fault  of  theirs.  There  should  be  a  room  in  every 
large  city,  at  least,  of  the  Far  East,  to  which  Catholic  residents 
and  Catholic  travelers  could  be  directed,  where  they  could  find 
a  list  of  their  fellow  Catholics,  a  directory  of  places  to  board, 
and  Catholic  literature,  including  reference  books  and  periodicals. 
Here  too,  they  could,  above  all,  get  in  touch  with  the  local 
Church  authorities.  Such  a  room  would  be  of  great  value,  for 
example,  to  the  Catholic  soldiers  and  sailors  garrisoned  here  and 
there,  far  from  home,  lonely,  and  without  any  positive  outside 
influence  to  help  them  to  keep  on  the  narrow  path. 

Through  such  an  organization  Catholic  missions  might  also 
find  American  friends,  who  in  turn  would  help  to  market  such 
productions  of  the  native  Christians  as  embroidered  linens, 
cloisonne,  metal  work,  rugs,  etc.  At  Tientsin  a  gentleman  showed 
me  some  samples  of  excellent  Chinese  rugs  made  by  orphan 
boys  under  skillful  direction  and  at  comparatively  low  cost. 
He  asked  if  I  could  furnish  him  with  the  names  of  a  few  American 
carpet-buyers.  We  should  easily  find  an  outlet  for  all  mission 
industries. 

Saturday  afternoon  I  said  good-bye  to  Bishop  Dumond  and 
his  household  and  went  to  St.  Louis  for  any  English  confessions. 
That  afternoon  I  had  a  long  talk  with  an  American  soldier, 
and  I  spent  most  of  the  evening  with  a  young  Ameri- 
can who  had  been  recently  baptized  by  the  Cure  of  St. 
Louis  Church. 

115 


OBSERVAT I  ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

My  Sunday  Mass  was  in  the  chapel  of  the  Franciscan 
Missionaries  of  Mary  and  at  ten  o'clock  I  spoke  in  St.  Louis 
Church  to  a  congregation  that  quite  filled  the  little  auditorium. 
I  noticed,  as  I  entered,  some  Sisters  of  Charity  and  some 
Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Mary  and  I  know  that  the  English- 
speaking  nuns  were  among  them.  After  Mass  I  met  a  few  people. 
Among  others  who  came  was  a  non-Catholic  young  man  from 
Boston,  who  was  a  little  homesick.  He  is  a  college  graduate 
and  occasionally  goes  to  the  Catholic  church.  An  Irishman, 
whose  heart  is  divided  between  Australia  and  his  native  hearth, 
called  that  afternoon,  and  as  he  has  an  important  position  in  the 
railway  he  made  my  exit  from  Tientsin  an  unusually  honorable 
one.  Just  as  our  train  was  about  to  pull  out  this  gentleman 
discovered  another  Irishman,  Mr.  Mc — ,  who  was  going  "home" 
— to  Peking — and  who  showed  me  much  kindness.  All  of  these 
English-speaking  people  were  evidently  glad  to  meet  a  priest 
who  could  think  and  talk  in  their  language. 


116 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WITH   THE   LAZARISTS   IN   PEKING   AND   CHENGTINGFU 

HE  run  to  Peking  is  not  a  long  one,  something  less 
than  four  hours  as  I  recall.  We  reached  the  great 
city  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  as  we 
were  getting  towards  the  station  Mr.  Me — 
presented  another  railroad  official,  giving  him  the 
title  of  Doctor.  This  official — a  Chinese  made  in 
America  and  a  trifle  condescending — welcomed  me 
to  China  when  he  learned  the  purpose  of  my  visit.  He  told  me 
that  he  was  a  Protestant  himself  but  he  believed  that  the  Catholic 
Church  was  just  as  good  as  any  other,  that  it  did  not  make  any 
difference,  and  so  forth  and  so  forth.  I  thought,  in  fact,  that  I 
was  talking  to  some  ultra-polite  Unitarian  in  a  New  England 
town. 

At  the  Peking  station  I  found  the  familiar  cassock  and  in  a 
few  moments  we  were  moving  in  Bishop  Jarlin's  carriage  towards 
the  Peitang — the  Cathedral  compound,  three  miles  away. 
This  carriage  was  the  nearest  approach  to  episcopal  splendor, 
and  the  only  kind  of  an  episcopal  equipage,  that  I  had  yet  met. 
I  examined  it  next  day  at  leisure  when  the  Bishop  kindly  placed 
it  at  my  disposal.  Its  varnish  had  lost  an  r,  its  furnishings 
were  faded,  and  the  horse  made  one  feel  that  its  owner  must 
have  a  large  heart  and  great  sympathy  for  dumb  animals. 

In  the  Peitang. 

I  had  been  told  that  at  Peking  I  would  see  a  belle  mission, 
but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  extensive  and  varied  spiritual 
enterprises  that  I  found  flourishing  within  the  precincts  of  the 
Peitang. 

The  Mission  property  is  approached  by  an  avenue  of  trees, 
on  one  side  of  which  is  a  hospital  conducted  by  Sisters  of 
Charity  for  poor  Chinese;  on  the  other  a  novitiate  of  native 
nuns,  the  Josephines. 

At  the  gate  of  the  Peitang,  which  is  entirely  surrounded  by 
a  high  wall  of  brick  and  is  closed  every  night,  a  policeman  stands, 
&nd  on  either  side  are  houses  for  the  domestics.    The  Cathedral 

117 


OBSERVAT  I  ONS    ^  TV    THE    ORIENT 

itself  is  the  first  building  to  be  seen  on  entering.  It  is  the  heart 
of  the  Peitang  and  I  was  much  more  impressed  with  the  original 
than  with  any  photograph  I  had  ever  seen  of  it.  It  is  flanked  by 
two  typical  Chinese  buildings  that  look  like  the  entrance  to  an 
imperial  palace  or  to  a  pagoda,  but  the  Cathedral  itself  is  Gothic 
even  to  the  gargoyles.  This  church,  like  all  the  others  I  have 
seen  so  far,  is  the  work  of  a  priest-architect,  the  priest  in  the 
present  case  being  the  late  Bishop  Favier  (1899-1905)  who, 
before  giving  his  life  to  the  Church,  had  been  an  architect  in 
France. 

Bishop  Favier's  hand  is  seen  not  only  in  the  Cathedral 
building  but  in  its  appointments,  in  the  plan  of  the  entire  series 
of  buildings,  and  in  the  lay-out  of  the  gardens.  The  compound 
is  rectangular  in  shape,  and  at  a  rough  guess  I  should  say  that  it 
is  about  half  a  mile  long  by  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide.  The 
cloisters  that  run  along  the  houses  occupied  by  the  Bishop  and 
priests  are  fully  five  hundred  feet  without  a  break,  and  in  this 
section  there  are  three  hollow  squares  planted  with  low  trees 
and  flowers.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  Cathedral  are  three 
corresponding  buildings  occupied  by  the  three  several  grades  of 
students  preparing  for  the  priesthood.  Behind  all  of  this  is  a 
small  park,  at  the  end  of  which  a  transverse  wall  runs  the  width 
of  the  property,  making  a  complete  separation  for  the  orphanage, 
a  seemingly  endless  chain  of  small  buildings.  Near  the  entrance 
to  the  Cathedral  is  also  a  large  printing  establishment  with  its 
bindery. 

Why  Some  Missions  Thrive. 

The  first  question  that  suggests  itself  to  an  American  as  he 
looks  over  the  Peitang  is,  "Where  did  the  money  come  from?" 
And  an  answer  to  that  question  here,  as  it  affects  one  of  the 
best-equipped  missions,  if  not  the  best,  in  the  Catholic  world, 
will  help  us  to  understand  what  to  those  at  home  who  have  been 
interested  has  been  something  of  a  mystery — the  excellent 
material  equipment  of  many  missions  in  the  Far  East. 

A  brief  answer  would  be :  l^he  foresight  of  Catholic  missioners 
and  their  economies.  When  our  missioners  began  their  work 
they  usually  bought  land  in  generous  quantities  for  next  to 

118 


STUDENTS   OF  THE   PEITANG   ON  THE   BISHOP'S   FEAST   DAY 


THE   CATHEDRAL   AT   TEKING 

"It  is  flanked  by  two  typical  Chinese  buildings  thai  look  like  the  entrance  to  an  imperial 
palace  or  to  a  pagoda,  but  the  Cathedral  itself  is  Gothic  even  to  the  gargoyles."     {p.  ii8.) 


OBSERVAT I  ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

nothing.  This  land  increased  greatly  in  value  as  the  cities 
multiplied  their  population.  Opportunities  came  from  time  to 
time  to  make  several  purchases  of  this  kind  even  in  one  city  and 
if  the  land  was  not  immediately  needed  it  was  rented  for  invest- 
ments. Land  bought  by  the  Church  in  Peking  for  ten  dollars 
gold  is  worth  today  several  thousands  of  dollars  in  the  same 
specie. 

At  Peking  some  of  the  Catholic  property  was  taken  for  the 
imperial  grounds  and  a  generous  compensation  was  given  to  the 
Mission,  which  was  further  enriched  by  indemnities  following  the 
Boxer  movement  when  churches  were  destroyed  and  many  lives 
lost.  All  of  this  money  has  been  used  most  carefully,  and  the 
yearly  income  from  investments  is  making  possible  the  extension 
of  Catholic  activities.  Without  such  help  the  vicariate  of  Peking 
would  be  today  as  struggling  a  spectacle  as  is  the  ordinary  vi- 
cariate, unaided  by  any  local  funds. 

The  Simple  Life. 

The  buildings  at  Peking  are  as  solid  as  they  are  extensive, 
but  with  the  solitary  exception  of  the  Bishop's  salon,  where 
notables — mandarins  and  others — must  be  received,  the  stamp 
of  poverty  is  all  over  the  place.  These  buildings  rest  on  the 
ground  and  are  only  one  story  high.  The  floors  are  of  rough 
brick  and  the  walls,  with  few  exceptions,  bare.  Furniture  is 
scarce  and  many  rooms  have  no  stoves. 

I  found  the  Bishop  of  Peking  a  man  of  large  ideas  and  great 
zeal  for  conversions,  his  one  passion  being  to  increase  his  flock 
at  all  costs.  He  gave  me  some  wise  suggestions  and  expressed 
the  hope  that  his  confreres  in  the  United  States  would  turn  their 
eyes  towards  China. 

The  Bishop  takes  his  meals  with  his  priests  in  a  barren- 
looking  refectory.  AH  rise  at  four  a.  m.  Each  takes  his  bowl 
of  coffee  and  a  piece  of  bread  after  Mass.  Dinner  and  supper 
are  served  as  a  rule  in  silence,  and  while  the  food  is  ample  there 
are  no  delicacies,  no  desserts,  as  Americans  understand  the  term. 
Only  a  special  vocation  and  the  marvelous  grace  of  God  can 
explain  the  perseverance  of  Catholic  missioners  in  the  lives 
which   today  they  are  leading.     And   the   Peitang  at    Peking 

119 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

is  a  comparatively  easy  place.  There  one  finds  companionship; 
he  hears  the  pulsing  of  life  in  the  great  city  beyond  the  gates;  he 
can  go  out  occasionally  into  its  streets  to  visit  his  confreres;  he 
is  in  touch  with  the  events  of  the  day.  As  a  rule,  however,  like 
his  fellow  missioners  in  remote  villages,  he  becomes  so  absorbed 
in  his  work  that  what  would  naturally  appeal  as  a  recreation 
loses  its  savor;  and  this  is  true  even  more  of  the  nuns,  whose 
lives  are  wrapped  up  in  their  tasks — performed  with  the  spirit 
of  faith  and  charity,  in  the  presence  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  lives 
every  moment  near  them. 

The  White  Cornette. 

It  took  an  entire  afternoon  to  visit  the  several  works  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity  at  the  end  of  that  Peitang  compound,  and  it 
would  take  pages  of  a  book  to  describe  them  thoroughly — the 
abandoned  babes  in  their  cribs;  the  scabby  little  ones  just  coming 
to  life;  the  work-rooms;  the  catechumenate;  the  dispensary. 

I  found  an  English  nun  there,  still  young,  who  in  her  zeal 
to  go  to  the  missions  had  made  application  direct  to  her  Mother- 
House  in  Paris  and  had  been  taken.  I  knew  her  by  correspond- 
ence. She  was  evidently  disappointed  because  I  had  chosen 
to  come  to  China  at  the  most  favorable  season.  I  should  have 
arranged  my  visit  so  as  to  suffer  either  intense  cold  or  the  awful 
heat  with  millions  of  flies  and  other  troublesome  visitors.  Then 
she  would  have  been  satisfied — more  so,  I  fear  than  I,  a  poor 
weak  mortal  who  had  been  congratulating  myself,  as  I  rubbed 
my  fingers,  that  all  kinds  of  insects  were  frozen  for  the  winter. 

How  these  good  Sisters  of  Charity  can  keep  their  white 
wings  immaculate  and  their  dresses  free  from  vermin  is  unintelli- 
gible to  me  as  I  look  at  the  people  for  whom  they  care.  But  their 
spirits  are  light  and  their  hearts  big,  and  they  seem  always  happy. 
The  Sister-Assistant  at  the  Peitang  orphanage  is  certainly  above 
seventy  years  of  age  and  I  hope  that  I  will  not  offend  her  by  say- 
ing that  she  looks  to  be  over  eighty.  And  yet  she  is  as  spry  as 
the  beloved  Cardinal  of  Baltimore  and  when  we  mounted  the  one 
hill  on  the  place,  a  kind  of  monument  made  from  the  wreck 
caused  by  the  Boxers,  she  was  at  our  heels  to  point  out  the  spot 
where  the  old  Empress  of  China  stood  and  gloated  over  the  suc- 

120 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

cessful  shots  that  massacred  in  the  Peitang  hundreds  of  innocent 
Christians.  And  I  imagine  that,  as  she  recalled  those  awful  days, 
there  was  no  bitterness  in  her  heart;  although  I  did  meet  in  one 
house  a  nun  who,  after  facing  the  trial  by  fire,  felt  such  supreme 
satisfaction  when  some  arrested  Boxers  were  passing  near  her 
that  she  gave  one  of  them  a  cuff  on  the  ear. 

The  nuns  at  the  Peitang  are  anxious  to  find  a  market  for  the 
lace  work  and  embroidery  done  by  their  little  ones.  They  have 
also  lately  developed  a  carpet  industry.  This  was  made  possible 
by  the  initiative  and  generosity  of  a  young  Chinaman,  who  has 
some  money  and  is  spending  it  that  he  may  place  the  boys' 
orphanage  on  a  good  foundation.  I  was  told  that  this  young 
man  is  practically  supporting  a  hundred  boys  at  an  expense  of 
about  three  hundred  dollars  a  month.  The  rugs  made  are 
excellent  and  buyers  are  wanted  in  America. 

When  we  entered  the  orphanage  that  afternoon  several 
hundred  little  ones  were  playing  "ring-a-ring-a-rounder,"  or 
something  like  it,  in  the  courtyard.  Sister  Agnes  (the  English 
nun)  admitted  that  the  Sister  in  charge  was  keeping  up  the  game 
so  that  I  could  see  the  children  with  clean  faces,  and  that  under 
ordinary  circumstances  they  would  have  been  rolling  in  the 
dirt  because  this  was  the  Bishop's  feast-day  and  they  were  free 
from  classes  and  workrooms.  I  took  a  shot  at  them  with  the 
camera,  which  always  amuses  the  Chinese  children  if  it  does  not 
frighten  them,  and  we  passed  into  the  sick-ward. 

The  Chinese  bed  is  used  in  this  house  and  little  ones  were 
stretched  on  the  matting  here  and  there  on  the  top  of  the  cement 
oven.  As  a  rule  they  were  lying  with  their  faces  to  the  mat, 
their  foreheads  resting  either  on  the  mat  itself  or  on  their  thin 
arms,  for  some  of  them  were  near  the  end.  Two  little  ones  were 
standing  on  the  f^oor  with  their  heads  on  the  bed  of  cement. 
The  contrast  between  the  laughing  children  outside  and  the 
miserable  half-dead  little  ones  was  striking,  but  the  Sisters  are 
accustomed  to  it,  and  besides,  as  they  realize  the  poverty  and 
misery  of  this  great  country  they  are  disposed  to  envy  these 
"thieves  of  Paradise,"  who  after  a  short  period  of  suffering  go 
straight  to  God.  Scarcely  a  day  passes  that  does  not  bring 
one  or  more  of  the  abandoned  waifs  to  this  home. 

121 


OBSERVATI QMS    !N    THE   ORIENT 

As  we  passed  to  the  kitchen  a  domestic  came  along,  balancing 
two  baskets  of  what  looked  like  cabbage.  It  was  the  evening 
meal,  to  be  put  into  hot  water  and  mixed  with  some  corn  flour. 
This  is  the  usual  dish  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper,  and  the 
great  question  is  how  to  supply  enough  to  these  hungry  little 
ones.  Some  days  the  mixture  must  be  given  very  sparingly, 
because  all  in  this  house  live  from  hand  to  mouth.  On  the  day 
of  my  visit  the  children  had  received  a  great  treat,  since  it  was 
the  Bishop's  feast-day,  and  they  reveled  in  some  clean  white  rice. 

I  was  almost  ashamed  to  eat  that  night  and  I  went  to  bed,  I 
fear,  with  a  qualm  of  conscience  as  I  thought  of  crumbs  wasted 
in  a  lifetime.  Economy  is  in  the  air  at  every  mission  I  have 
visited,  as  it  is  everywhere  among  the  Chinese  in  this  great 
country.  If  we  in  America  would  only  give  what  we  drop  on  the 
floor,  or  throw  into  the  waste,  we  could  keep  all  the  infant  asy- 
lums in  China. 

My  first  Mass  at  the  Peitang  was  another  revelation. 

From  the  great  sacristy,  after  vesting,  I  was  conducted 
around  the  apse,  which  is  lined  with  small  chapels,  to  the  altar 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  outside  the  sanctuary  in  one  of  the  tran- 
septs. It  was  yet  early  and  the  church  was  dark  except  for  a 
few  lamps  here  and  there,  but  there  was  light  enough  to  see  that 
hundreds  of  people,  men  and  women,  were  in  attendance,  and 
my  first  impression  as  I  found  my  way  through  the  kneeling 
faithful  was  that  some  special  feast  was  being  celebrated.  I 
learned  afterwards  that  it  was  the  ordinary  daily  congregation 
that  included  several  hundred  communicants. 

Visits. 

My  first  outside  visit  at  Peking  was  to  Mr.  Reinsch,  the 
American  Ambassador,  whom  I  had  met  several  years  before 
and  who  was  most  cordial.  His  position  has  been  and  is  a 
difficult  one,  but  he  seems  equal  to  it.  I  spoke  with  the  gate- 
guards  on  leaving.  Both  were  from  the  South,  a  section  of  the 
States  that  seems  to  have  contributed  nearly  all  of  the  American 
soldiers  whom  I  have  met  in  the  Far  East. 

From  the  Legation  I  went  across  the  street  to  the  hospital, 
where  I  found  the  second  of  the  only  two  American  Sisters  of 

122 


MEMORIAL   ARCHES   ON  THE   WAY   TO   THE   HOSPITAL 


A   HOSPITAL  AT  PEKING   OWNED   BY   A    CHINESE   CORPORATION 
AND    DIRECTED   BY  THE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

Charity  in  all  of  China.  This  was  Sister  Catherine  Buschman, 
of  Baltimore,  and  she  makes  up  for  five.  I  had  known  her  for  a 
dozenyearsbut  only  at  a  great  distance.  Sister  Pharmacist,  into 
whose  apothecary  shop  I  had  stumbled,  sent  for  her  without 
delay.  In  the  meantime,  I  met  a  Cistercian  monk  who  had  come 
in  to  patronize  this  establishment,  which  with  the  pay  patients 
keeps  the  house  going.  Sister  Catherine  soon  appeared  and  in  a 
short  time  gave  me  much  information. 

The  hospital  work  of  these  Sisters  is  admired  by  the  Chinese 
as  well  as  by  European  residents,  and  while  in  Peking  I  was  told 
that  they  have  been  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  new  Govern- 
ment hospital  which  is  nearing  completion.  This  is  a  high 
compliment  and  I  hope  that  the  Sisters  can  accept.  It  is  doubtful, 
however,  as  the  supply  of  nuns  from  France  has  stopped  and  all 
in  China  have  more  than  they  can  do.* 

My  visit  to  Peking  continued  from  Sunday  night  to  Thursday 
morning.  While  at  the  Peitang  I  inspected  the  printing  estab- 
lishment and  the  bindery — also  a  store  on  the  grounds  for  the 
sale  of  cloisonne  enamel  work,  which,  as  it  is  applied  to  ecclesi- 
astical furnishings  and  is  done  by  Christians,  should  also  find 
patrons  in  the  United  States.  The  printing  and  bindery  are 
under  the  direction  of  a  Lazarist  Brother. 

Before  leaving  Peking  I  went  out  to  Chala,  to  see  the  novitiate 
of  the  Lazarists,  also  that  of  the  Marist  Brothers  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken  and  who  conduct  successfully  in  the  city  colleges 
for  Europeans  and  for  Chinese. 

The  Lazarist  novices  were  absent  on  an  excursion  but  I  met 
the  Visitor  and  the  Shanghai  Procurator.  Near  the  novitiate  is 
the  cemetery  where  the  Lazarists  of  this  vicariate  are  buried. 
Over  the  graves  are  huge  blocks  of  cement  and  large  tombstones 
— needlessly  large,  perhaps — indicating  to  the  Chinese  and  to  all 
who  see  them  the  regard  which  the  followers  of  St.  Vincent  have 
for  their  apostolic  brethren. 

As  we  were  going  to  Chala  that  day  two  beggars  followed 
our  rickshaws  for  at  least  ten  minutes.  Both  were  half-naked, 
one  a  boy  of  fourteen,  the  other  a  full-grown  man,  and  each  had 
the  upper  part  of  his  body  covered  with   a   potato  sack.     I 

•The  Sisters  of  Charity  were  later  installed  at  this  new  hospital  which  I  have  learned  since  is 
not  owned  by  the  government,  but  by  a  private  Chinese  corporation. 

123 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

doubt  if  I  ever  saw  any  face  quite  so  bad  as  that  of  the  man,  who 
at  one  point  came  close  to  my  rickshaw  and  leered  at  me.  His 
hair  was  long  and  matted,  his  face  profusely  smeared  with  coal- 
dust,  enough  to  make  a  Scranton  miner  coming  out  of  the 
breaker  look  white  in  comparison.  His  eyes  were  villainously 
black,  and  Father  La  Croix,  who  would  not  let  me  give  anything 
to  professional  beggars,  finally  threw  a  coin,  explaining  after- 
wards that  this  one  was  probably  a  bandit,  one  of  many  who 
take  up  this  occupation  and  whom  it  is  not  well  to  refuse  at 
night  or  in  out-of-the-way  places  during  the  day. 

With  Bishop  De  Vienne  to  Chengtingfu. 

When  in  Tientsin  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  Bishop  de 
Vienne  of  Chengtingfu  who  asked  me  to  visit  him  on  my  way 
to  Hankow.  He  had  come  north  at  the  request  of  officials  to 
arrange  about  the  distribution  of  the  flood  relief  money,  and  on 
his  return  from  Tientsin  he  stayed  at  the  Peitang.  I  decided 
to  accompany  him  on  Thursday  morning  to  Chengtingfu. 

We  left  in  Bishop  Jarlin's  "kerosene"  and  plodded  to  the 
station  where  we  found  Bishop  De  Vienne's  Vicar-General,  who 
had  reserved  a  cabin  in  the  second  class.  The  Bishop  spread  a 
shawl  that  the  seat  might  be  cleaner.  The  Vicar-General  stowed 
away  innumerable  bags  and  parcels,  then  lit  his  pipe,  and  we 
settled  down  for  a  five-hour  ride,  when  suddenly  an  official 
announced  that  our  car  was  not  going  and  we  must  find  room 
ahead. 

We  gathered  the  scatterings  and  set  out,  laden,  through  the 
corridor,  but  every  compartment  seemed  to  be  full.  Then  I 
suggested  to  the  Bishop  that  as  I  had  no  hotel  bills  to  pay  in 
this  big  country  I  would  gladly  settle  for  the  supplement  and 
we  would  surely  find  a  compartment  in  the  first-class  car  just 
ahead.  The  Bishop  is  still  young  and  very  active.  He  looked 
at  me  aghast,  and  said  that  he  had  never  traveled  first-class  in 
China  and  rarely  second,  so  that  he  could  not  think  of  entering 
the  first-class  car. 

Then  we  found  a  Sister  of  Charity  bound  for  Paotingfu  and 
somewhat  ill  at  ease  in  a  compartment  filled  with  the  baggage 
of  sleepy  looking  Chinamen,  who  themselves  occupied  seats 


THE  WHITE   CORNETTE   IS  NO   STRANGER  AT  CHENGTINGFU 


WHERE  THE  DANGER  OF  BEING  RUN  OVER  BY  AUTOMOBILES 

IS   MINIMIZED 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

next  the  window.  The  Sister  was  glad  to  be  introduced  into 
another  section  where  she  could  have  the  company  of  a  little 
Chinese  family,  and  we  made  short  work  of  all  the  other  fellows' 
belongings  that  were  on  the  benches.  Finally  we  settled  down 
again  and  after  a  chat  turned  to  that  never-failing  priest's- 
companion,  the  breviary. 

All  went  well  for  a  good  half-hour — when  something  happened 
and  broken  bits  of  glass  flew  over  and  at  us.  Sleep  fled  from  the 
Chinese  and  the  breviary  was  rudely  interrupted,  to  be  resumed 
soon  after,  with  an  act  of  thanksgiving.  Somebody  along  the 
line  had  thrown  at  the  train  a  good-sized  rock  and  our  compart- 
ment was  the  bull's  eye.  Bishop  de  Vienne  made  a  run  for  the 
conductor  but  he  was  not  be  found  until  we  arrived  at  the  next 
station,  when  the  misdeed  was  reported,  with  what  result  I  do 
not  know. 

At  Paotingfu  a  Lazarist  priest  appeared  in  full  Chinese 
dress,  very  comfortable-looking  at  that.  Those  Chinese  gar- 
ments are  adapted  to  heat  or  cold,  according  to  their  lining,  and 
those  who  can  afford  it  have  theirs  lined  with  fur  at  this  season 
of  the  year.  There  is,  of  course,  fur  and  fur,  and  the  skin  which 
later  I  saw  a  poor  Franciscan  trying  to  buy  was  made  up  of  the 
remnants  of  several  cats.  The  Lazarist  brethren  were  happy  in 
their  little  reunion,  which  took  place  on  the  train  at  Paotingfu 
just  as  we  three  were  breaking  a  loaf  of  bread  brought  by  the 
Vicar-General  to  add  to  the  perfection  of  the  regular  bill  of  fare. 

In  a  Walled  City. 

We  reached  Chengtingfu  towards  four  o'clock,  and  as  the 
train  sped  away  from  us  I  began  to  realize  that  I  was  getting  at 
the  heart  of  China. 

Outside  the  station  were  several  men  waiting  for  passengers, 
but  they  were  not  chauffeurs,  nor  hack-drivers,  nor  even  rick- 
shaw pullers,  yet  each  was  as  proud  of  his  equipment  as  if  it 
had  been  a  New  York  limousine.  The  equipment  was  the  tv/o- 
wheeled,  springless,  covered  cart  that  is  well-known  to  every 
bishop  and  priest  traveling  in  China.  I  was  invited  to  enter  and 
I  managed  to  back  in,  although  I  felt  like  backing  out  and  walking 
as  I  looked  at  a  roadless  expanse  of  humps  leading  to  the  walled 

125 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

city  about  a  mile  distant.  But,  after  all,  what  is  a  trip  to  China 
without  at  least  a  few  of  the  ancient  inconveniences  which  give 
a  man  an  opportunity  to  draw  the  longbow  whenhetellshis  unsus- 
pecting friends  at  home  of  his  travels? 

Off  I  journeyed,  then,  behind  a  little  donkey  whose  driver,  a 
young  well-built  Chinaman,  let  us  down  gently  into  the  holes 
by  the  simple  pressure  of  his  hand  on  the  donkey's  back.  We 
reached  the  city  wall  in  twenty  minutes  but  had  to  follow  it 
another  half-mile  before  we  arrived  at  the  gate;  and  as  we  entered 
I  woke  to  a  realization  that  Chengtingfu  is  really  a  thousand 
years  old. 

There  were  Chinese  innumerable,  with  noise  and  mud  enough 
to  satisfy  them  all.  We  fell  into  a  line  of  carts,  wheeled  around 
the  enclosure  that  looked  now  like  a  dungeon  with  its  massive 
high  walls,  and  passed  through  a  flooded  area  to  the  inner  gate. 
Then  we  bumped  along  the  main  street — an  unpaved  alley 
about  fourteen  feet  wide — until  we  could  go  no  further,  when 
I  crawled  out  and  we  walked  away  from  the  squalid  houses  into 
open  fields  that  revealed  the  size  of  Chengtingfu,  with  its  eight 
miles  of  surrounding  wall. 

Two  wee  Chinese  children  whom  we  passed  were  frightened 
to  a  cry  as  soon  as  I  tried  to  get  their  little  faces 
through  my  kodak  lens,  and  as  I  finished  the  attempt  the 
Bishop  pointed  to  a  corner  of  the  city  wall  with  the  announce- 
ment that  we  were  in  sight  of  the  Cathedral.  Two  towers 
were  there,  massive  although  not  beautiful,  yet  crowning 
with  dignity  the  large  well-proportioned  church  for  which 
they  stood  as  sentinels. 

We  were  soon  on  a  footpath,  and  after  crossing  a  few  ditches 
arrived  at  the  wall  of  the  Mission  compound.  Some  children 
saluted  the  Bishop  gleefully  as  we  came  to  the  gate  and  he 
responded  cordially,  to  the  evident  delight  of  the  little  ones. 
The  Cathedral  will  accommodate  more  than  a  thousand  persons, 
and  is  the  work  of  a  Lazarist  Brother.  It  is  solid,  simply  fur- 
nished, and,  as  usual,  in  the  north  at  this  season,  cold — but  the 
faith  of  good  priests,  of  holy  virgins,  of  redeemed  orphans,  and 
of  a  simple  people  keeps  it  warm  enough  to  satisfy  those  who 
worship  within  its  gray  walls. 

126 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

A  bishop's  room  could  hardly  be  more  severe  than  that  at 
Chengtingfu,  and  it  struck  the  note  of  the  whole  establishment. 
Bishop  de  Vienne  de  Hautefeuille  is  not  much  above  forty.  He 
is  small  of  stature  and  thin  but  his  ideas  are  large  and  I  found 
at  Chengtingfu  an  organization  that  completely  surprised  me. 
There  were  some  six  or  seven  nationalities  represented  among  the 
priests,  and  one  could  quickly  sense  an  ideal  community  spirit 
with  the  Bishop  presiding  as  a  necessary  "first  among  equals." 

This  was  particularly  noticeable  at  recreation,  which  is  taken 
in  a  quaint  Chinese  house  used  on  several  occasions  by  the 
Emperor  of  China  and  deeded  to  the  Mission  along  with  the  land 
as  indemnity  for  the  Boxer  ravages.  Like  all  the  other  buildings, 
this  house  rests  on  the  ground  and  is  floored  with  rough  stones. 
Arm-chairs  are  strung  along  on  either  side,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
two  files  is  the  mandarin  lounge,  where  the  Bishop  places  his 
mandarin  guests  with  himself.  This  distinguished  seat  is  above 
the  floor,  and  the  mandarin's  place  is  furthest  from  the  door — 
so  that  the  rest  of  the  company,  I  presume,  may  serve  as  a 
buffer  for  the  honored  man  in  case  he  is  attacked  by  brigands. 
The  Bishop  evidently  considered  me  as  good  as  the  average 
mandarin  and  I  squatted  on  the  throne  as  if  I  belonged  there. 

Early  night  prayers  follow  the  recreation  period  in  Lazarist 
houses,  and  early  retiring,  for  the  simple  reason  that  these  good 
men  rise  at  four  o'clock  every  morning.  The  Bishop,  a  most 
thoughtful  soul,  was  much  concerned  about  my  room,  into  which 
a  smoky  stove  had  been  placed,  and  he  was  otherwise  concerned 
about  my  physical  well-being,  because  when  I  returned  from  night 
prayers  to  my  quarters  I  found  a  bowl  of  something  yellow  that 
reminded  me  of  an  old-fashioned  concoction  named  after  Thomas 
and  Jeremias.  This  was  a  new  Chinese  experience  for  me  but  I 
managed  to  live  through  it. 

There  is  a  great  Buddhist  temple  at  Chengtingfu,  fully 
thirteen  hundred  years  old,  containing  a  huge  bronze  image 
of  Buddha,  seventy-three  feet  high,  but  I  did  not  see  it.  Ad- 
joining the  Mission  wall,  however,  is  another  pagoda  now  used 
as  a  barracks,  which  impressed  itself  upon  me  at  an  unearthly 
hour  the  next  morning  when  at  least  twenty  soldiers,  ambitious 
to  learn    how  to    sound  a  bugle    call,    began  a  half-hour    of 

127 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

practice.     There  was  no   need   of  an   alarm  clock  that  morn- 
ing, or  of  a  rousing  call. 

A  Model  Mission. 

A  seminarian  served  my  Mass,  which  followed  that  of  the 
Bishop  in  the  private  chapel  of  the  Fathers,  and  at  about  eight- 
thirty  we  began  the  visit  of  the  compound.  At  first  glance  I 
thought  that  it  would  be  done  in  about  an  hour,  but  it  required 
practically  the  entire  morning  because  there  is  hardly  a  phase  of 
Catholic  activity  that  is  not  exemplified  in  that  walled  corner  of 
the  walled  city  of  Chengtingfu.  Abandoned  waifs,  orphans, 
and  outside  pupils,  old  people,  the  blind,  deaf-mutes,  imbeciles, 
catechumens  (girls  and  women),  the  sick  in  a  hospital  or  at  the 
dispensary,  workrooms  where  cloth,  lace,  and  embroidery  are 
produced  for  customers  who  are  readily  found — these  suggest 
the  activities  at  Chengtingfu. 

The  Sisters  of  Charity  are  here,  all  happy  in  their  work  and 
in  these  restricted  surroundings  which  might  pall  on  the  many 
but  which  to  each  and  all  of  these  good  souls  are  like  a  little 
world.  It  was  indeed  interesting.  The  Sisters,  like  all  of  their 
kind,  took  advantage  of  the  Bishop's  inspection  to  throw  out  a 
very  broad  hint  to  him  that  a  certain  department  was  getting 
over-crowded,  that  he  must  build  another  wing,  and  so  forth. 
He  put  them  off  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  but  I  know  that  he  will 
meet  their  wishes  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  It  reminded  me  of 
Maryknoll,  with  the  Teresians  calling  for  some  much  needed 
improvement  when  the  treasury  is  low — its  normal  height. 

The  Sisters  here  knew  of  Maryknoll  through  The  Field  Afar, 
and  especially  because  of  the  interest  taken  by  a  nun*  who  had 
been  recently  transferred  to  Kiukiang.  This  nun,  who  belongs 
to  a  well-known  English  family,  had  found  real  happiness  at 
Chengtingfu,  nursing  the  scores  of  repulsive-looking  people, 
bearing  patiently  difficult  weather  conditions  and  a  thousand 
other  trials  incidental  to  mission  life. 

The  Sisters  try  to  keep  up  their  own  establishment  by  gifts 
from  friends  and  by  the  sale  of  embroidery,  so  as  to  leave  the 
Bishop  free  to  expand  his  diocesan  works;  and  they  succeed 

*Si3ter  Claire  Fielding.  See  note  page  143. 

^  128 


A   CHINESE   DAUGHTER   OF   ST.    VINCENT 


BISHOP   DE   VIENNE   OF   CHENGTINGFU   AND   HIS   SEMINARISTS 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

to  a  considerable  extent  because  their  faith  in  God's  Providence 
is  strong  and  because  economy  is  their  constant  watch-word.  I 
found  at  Chengtingfu  imbecile  children  picking  over  old  cotton 
linings  so  that  the  remnants  could  be  mixed  with  new  cotton 
and  become  serviceable.  Blind  women  and  children  were 
engaged  at  the  spinning  wheels,  and  about  the  only  drones  in  the 
hive  were  some  old  men  who  had  been  picked  up  from  the  dumps 
of  Chengtingfu,  unable  even  to  beg.  I  found  too,  that  almost 
everything  that  appears  on  the  table  is  raised  in  the  compound — 
poultry,  vegetables,  milk  for  infants,  butter  as  a  rare  dish,  altar- 
wine,  rice,  and  potatoes. 

I  am  certain  that  I  have  not  mentioned  all  of  the  varied 
works  under  the  care  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  who  number 
fourteen,  including  four  Chinese  nuns.  There  is  also  here  a 
novitiate  for  the  Josephines,  a  community  of  women  exclusively 
Chinese,  whose  spirit  of  poverty  is  deeply  marked  and  whose 
labors  in  the  outlying  districts  are  very  successful.  No  fewer 
than  a  hundred  and  thirty  of  these  women  are  already  enlisted 
in  the  vicariate  of  Chengtingfu. 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  morning  when  we  finished  this  first 
inspection  and  I  had  no  time  to  meet  the  Paulists,  a  group  of 
Chinese  Brothers,  some  forty-six  in  number,  who  are  engaged  in 
various  kinds  of  manual  labor.  We  caught  a  glimpse,  however, 
of  the  industrial  school  for  orphan  boys,  where  I  noted  an  altar 
in  construction.  I  looked  into  the  "School  of  Languages  and 
European  Sciences,"  which  sixty  boys  attend;  and  paid  a  visit 
to  the  Seminary,  which  had  twenty  young  men  in  philosophy  or 
theology. 

When  lunch  was  over  I  said  good-bye  to  the  Fathers  and  re- 
turned with  the  Bishop  across  the  fields  to  the  heart  of  the  city, 
where  we  found  carts  ready  to  bring  us  a  couple  of  miles  to  the 
preparatory  school  and  then  to  the  railway  station. 

I  tried  to  read  my  breviary  as  a  missioner  would  have  to  do 
at  times  while  on  a  journey,  but  I  was  not  very  successful  and 
when  word  came  from  the  Bishop  that  we  should  get  out  and 
walk  I  obeyed  cheerfully,  thinking  at  the  same  time  of  the  in- 
conveniences to  which  he  himself,  his  priests,  and  the  nuns  are 
occasionally  subject  for  days  at  a  time. 

129 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

To  reach  the  preparatory  school  we  had  to  cross  the  railroad 
track,  and  just  beyond  this  point  the  Bishop  pointed  out  a 
large  tract  of  land  covering  many  acres,  for  which  he  paid  twenty 
dollars  a  few  years  ago  and  which  has  already  advanced  con- 
siderably in  value.  He  has  planted  trees,  for  wood  is  a  scarce 
commodity  here,  and  another  generation  will  benefit  by  this 
precious  investment  of  a  few  dollars. 

The  boys  of  the  school  and  their  professors — three  priests, 
a  Hollander  and  two  Chinese — were  all  glad  to  welcome  the 
Bishop  home  from  his  trip  to  Tientsin  and  they  were  pleased 
to  see  a  priest  from  America.  They  are  a  bright-looking  set 
of  young  aspirants  and  number  a  hundred  and  twelve. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  "little  seminary"  we  saw  the  village 
church,  which  a  heavy  rain  had  reduced  to  ruins,  and  we  looked 
into  the  house  of  a  catechist,  a  rather  well-to-do  man  whose 
home  gave  a  fair  idea  of  the  kind  of  place  where  a  missionary 
bishop  or  priest  may  find  shelter  and  say  Mass  when  on  a  tour. 
It  was  not  dirt-proof. 

The  report  of  spiritual  fruit  in  this  vicariate  is  unusually 
good,  the  more  so  as  Bishop  de  Vienne  holds  out  no  advantages, 
such,  for  example,  as  sustenance  for  catechumens  during  their 
period  of  training. 

His  vicariate  contains  about  65,000  Christians.  Last  year 
there  were  baptized : 

2,220  children  of  Christians 

946  adults 

50  adults  at  the  point  of  death 

20,072  pagan  infants  at  the  point  of  death 

Communions  of  devotion  during  the  year  were  376,082. 


130 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

CHAPTER  IX 

FRANCISCAN    HOSPITALITY    AT    HANKOW 

HE  train  from  Peking  to  Hankow  came  on  time, 
and  I  found  good  accommodation  for  a  night's 
travel — with  what  proved  to  be  a  full  day  in 
addition. 

There  were  only  two  passengers  in  the  second- 
class  sleeping  compartment,  and  as  the  other  man 
was  Chinese  I  had  all  the  advantages  of  a  private 
car  with  two  willing  "boys,"  one  of  whom  had  been  educated  at 
Peking  by  the  Marist  Brothers  and  could  speak  French. 

I  also  found  that  the  steward  of  the  dining-car  was  a  Catholic 
with  a  fair  hold  of  French.  He  had  noticed  me  with  the  Bishop 
and  when  I  told  him  not  to  bring  me  meat  he  smiled  his  recogni- 
tion and  told  me  all  about  himself.  More  than  this — when  he 
he  presented  the  bill  he  did  so  with  hesitation,  remarking  that  it 
must  cost  money  to  travel  far  and,  if  I  wished,  he  himself  would 
pay  for  my  meal.  I  record  this  as  the  first  experience  of  the  kind 
that  I  have  had  in  many  years  of  train  travel.  I  thanked  this 
good  Chinaman  and  told  him  that  an  old  friend  had  left  me 
enough  to  meet  all  my  necessary  expenses  on  this  trip.  Later  he 
kept  me  informed  of  happenings — the  passing  during  the  night 
of  car-loads  of  Northern  soldiers  for  the  battle  going  on  in  the 
province  of  Hupeh,  and  other  minor  events,  including  an  engine 
wreck  that  kept  us  stalled  in  some  rice  fields  for  no  less  than 
seven  hours. 

Fortunately  I  had  not  telegraphed  ahead  to  the  Franciscans 
at  Hankow.  I  had  indeed  tried  to  do  so  but  there  was  no  change 
at  the  telegraph  office  and  had  I  waited  I  should  have  lost  my 
train — which  was  drawing  out  of  the  station  with  all  my  belong- 
ings on  it  when  I  returned.  It  is  in  such  moments  that  a  man  re- 
members the  days  of  his  youth,  when  hopping  on  moving 
vehicles  was  a  pastime,  and  it  is  also  in  such  moments 
that  age  reveals  the  fact  that  a  man's  body  is  regulated  by 
the  action  of  his  heart. 

It  was  near  midnight  when  one  of  the  "boys"  led  me  out  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  train  at  Hankow,  made  me  almost  walk 

131 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN   THE   ORIENT 

a  tight-rope,  and  landed  me,  bag  and  baggage,  in  a  rickshaw  from 
which  I  was  deposited  in  front  of  a  gloomy-looking  building, 
that  turned  out  to  be  a  very  respectable  hotel  kept  by  a  Catholic 
lady  and  owned,  I  learned  later,  by  one  of  our  Catholic  missions 
in  the  North. 

After  six  hours  rest  I  squared  my  account  and  was  hauled 
to  the  principal  Catholic  church,  one  of  three  in  Hankow  proper. 
I  say  "Hankow  proper"  because  just  across  the  great  river 
Yangtze  is  the  city  of  Wuchang  and  on  the  other  side  of  a 
smaller  stream  lies  another  city,  Hanyang.  The  Bishop  of  Han- 
kow stays  most  of  the  time  across  the  river  at  Wuchang,  but 
occasionally  he  resides  in  Hankow  where  the  church  is  of  more 
cathedral  proportions. 

It  was  a  bright  Sunday  morning,  November  19.  The  birds 
were  singing,  palm  trees  were  in  evidence,  and  many  other  trees 
were  yet  green,  while  chrysanthemums  abloom  were  plentiful, 
for  we  were  in  concessions  where  white  people  cultivate  flowers 
and  live  in  buildings  that  have  height,  width,  and  respectability — 
at  least  externally. 

I  ran  into  an  American  priest  as  I  entered  the  house.  He  was 
a  Franciscan  who  had  been  sent  over  to  help  his  brethren  for 
a  few  years  by  teaching  English  at  a  place  called  Laohokow. 
He,  too,  had  arrived  the  night  before  after  a  journey  of  five 
hundred  miles  that  took  about  three  weeks,  most  of  which 
time  he  had  spent  in  a  sampan — a  small  river-boat. 

My  Mass  was  arranged  for  without  delay,  but  just  as  I 
was  vested  a  blue-cassocked  server  deftly  put  a  Chinese  "mitre" 
on  my  head,  which  I  immediately  removed,  to  the  consternation 
of  the  boy,  who  had  one  of  the  same  kind,  though  not  quite  so 
elaborately  embroidered,  on  his  own  little  Chinese  cranium. 
He  made  appealing  gestures,  as  if  to  tell  me  that  I  could  not 
say  Mass  validly  without  the  hat.  Just  ther  a  priest  came  along, 
who  settled  the  difficulty  by  assuring  me  that  it  was  the  custom 
even  for  visitors,  and  I  bowed  to  the  "mitre." 

This  hat  is  worn  through  Mass,  even  during  the  Elevation.  I 
understand  that  the  custom  was  introduced  years  ago  in  def- 
erence to  mandarins  and  other  notables  who  were  shocked  to 
find  Catholic  priests  so  lacking  in  respect  as  to  conduct  their 

132 


i-,^^1 


FROM   THE   TK.\IN   WINDOW   EN   ROUTE   TO   HANKOW 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

services  bareheaded.    In  China  it  seems  that  the  hat's  the  thing, 
even  in  church. 

The  Christians  at  Hankow  chant  their  prayers  somewhat 
differently  from  those  in  the  North  and  if  I  had  had  a  grapha- 
phone  with  some  blank  records  I  should  have  been  tempted  to 
try  some  reproductions. 

With  an  American  Missioner. 

Before  the  morning  sun  had  risen  high,  Father  Sylvester 
Espelage  came  over  from  Wuchang  and  I  was  particularly  glad 
to  see  him.  Father  Espelage  is  an  American  Franciscan,  one  of 
the  few  who  have  left  the  United  States  for  China,  He  visited 
Maryknoll  a  few  years  ago  and  has  been  for  many  years  a  valued 
friend.  I  found  him  apparently  robust,  and  deeply  interested 
in  building  up  a  college  at  Wuchang.  Bishops  and  priests  have 
been  invariably  kind  over  here,  and  I  hope  never  to  forget  their 
brotherly  attention,  but  when  it  comes  to  helping  an  American 
in  his  attempt  to  size  up  a  situation  or  the  character  of  a  people 
another  American  is  illuminating,  especially  if  he  happens  to 
have  brains  and  good  judgment. 

Father  Espelage  gave  me  much  of  his  time  during  my  few 
days'  stay  at  and  near  Hankow.  He  had  with  him  an  American 
Brother  who  helps  him  as  an  English  instructor  at  the  college, 
and  after  a  round-table  conference,  four  of  us,  all  natives  of  the 
United  States,  started  out  for  my  first  dive  into  Chinese  Hankow. 
I  found  it  different  from  what  I  had  seen  in  the  North.  Its 
main  street,  although  newly  built  and  broadened  after  a  fire, 
was  extremely  narrow  but  picturesque  in  hangings  and  elaborate 
store  fronts.  The  three  Franciscans  who  were  with  me  wore 
Chinese  dress  but  this  did  not  prevent  the  unoccupied  thousands 
from  enjoying  the  sight  of  "foreign  gentlemen,"  as  white  people 
are  called  by  those  Chinese  who  do  not  prefer  the  term  "foreign 
devils." 

Father  Espelage  spoke  Chinese  much  better  than  his  com- 
panions, even  if  they  were  to  unite  their  stock.  Besides,  he 
strides  like  a  mighty  mandarin  and  has  observed  closely,  so 
that  he  acted  as  guide  and  the  walk  was  most  profitable.  He 
would  stop  occasionally,  pick  over  a  shopkeeper's  exhibit,  ma'ne 

133 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

comments  on  it  for  my  benefit,  and  leave  the  Chinaman  quite 
satisfied  in  the  reflection  that  greatness  had  thrown  its  shadow- 
on  his  wares,  ahhough  it  left  no  visible  coin  as  a  souvenir! 

Dinner  with  the  priests  of  Hankow  revealed  another  Catholic 
group,  including  at  least  four  nationalities,  Italian  predomina- 
ting. Conversation  was  carried  on  in  English,  French,  Italian, 
Latin  and  Chinese.  Italian  and  Latin  seem  to  be  the  ordinary 
languages  of  the  house  and  Father  Wang,  a  genial  Chinese 
priest  with  a  keen  eye  and  a  merry  laugh,  could  speak  both 
languages  very  fluently. 

Early  that  afternoon  the  four  star-spangled  banners  carried 
themselves  down  to  the  Bund — the  river  bank — and  along  a 
promenade  that  is  reserved  to  white  feet,  until  they  reached  the 
ferry.  This  is  of  the  tug-boat  variety,  with  a  bench  in  front  of 
the  pilot  house  that  seems  to  be  also  exclusively  used  by  the 
white  family.  Father  Espelage  made  friends  at  once  with  the 
Chinese  captain  and  we  two  found  a  place  in  the  pilot  house 
itself.  The  Yangtze-kiang  is  said  to  be  the  finest  of  the 
great  rivers  of  the  world.  It  is  three  thousand  two  hundred 
miles  long,  and  divides  China  into  halves,  with  eight  provinces 
on  the  north,  eight  on  the  south,  and  Anhwei  and  Kiang-su 
lying  partly  on  either  side.  Hankow  is  sometimes  called  the 
Chicago  of  China,  but  it  is  known  among  the  Chinese  as  the 
"Collecting-place  of  Nine  Provinces." 

We  found  the  river  full  of  steamers  and  junks,  but  our 
little  boat  was  a  speedy  one  and  in  about  twenty  minutes  we 
were  on  the  other  side  at  Wuchang  and  settled  in  rickshaws  for 
the  inspection  of  a  city  as  unattractive  as  it  is  malodorous. 
My  bags  went  through  the  customs  without  the  thrust  of  a  hand 
in  their  contents,  thanks  to  our  "mandarin"  guide,  and  we  im- 
mediately turned  into  a  maze  of  alleys,  rocking  over  the  rough 
pavements  until  we  reached  an  old  city  wall  alongside  of  which, 
in  a  prison  since  destroyed,  had  been  confined  Blessed  John 
Gabriel  Perboyre  who  was  martyred  in  this  city  with  Blessed 
Clet  in  1840. 

Father  Perboyre  was  a  Lazarist,  whose  physical  sufferings 
and  death  resembled  in  a  striking  manner  those  of  Our  Divine 
Saviour.     I  had  been  interested  for  many  years  in  his  life  and 

m 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

was  pleased  to  find  the  Franciscans  devoted  to  his  memory. 
A  little  further  along  we  left  the  rickshaws  and  walked  down 
another  alley  until  we  came  to  open  land,  through  which  a 
stream  of  dirty  water  sluggishly  flows.  Here  on  a  slight  hillock 
we  found  the  place  where  Blessed  Perboyre  was  crucified,  a  spot 
still  used  at  times  for  executions.  A  few  huts  are  nearby  and 
our  group  soon  drew  from  them  curious  Chinese  who  followed 
our  every  movement.  On  top  of  the  ground  were  several  bulky 
coffins  which,  I  was  assured,  contained  the  bodies  for  which  they 
were  destined.  These  bodies,  steeped  in  lime,  were  awaiting 
some  "lucky"  day  or  a  small  addition  to  the  funds  of  their 
relatives  before  they  could  be  buried.  I  tried  to  combine  a 
photograph  of  some  living  types  with  the  wooden  boxes,  but 
the  live  ones  fled  in  fear  and  I  caught  only  a  boy,  bolder  than 
the  others. 

Before  reaching  the  Bishop's  residence  we  turned  into  a 
Buddhist  pagoda.  The  locality  seemed  no  better  than  what  we 
had  been  passing  through  but  we  found  ourselves  in  quite  an 
extensive  establishment.  We  were  fortunate  also  to  arrive 
just  as  the  bonzes,  a  group  of  fourteen  Buddhist  monks,  were 
at  their  exercises. 

We  found  them  gathered  about  an  altar  before  which  candles 
were  burning  and  above  which  we  could  see  the  statue  of  Buddha, 
the  impassive  one,  whose  many  deceased  followers  would  give 
much  to  come  back  to  earth  and  say  a  few  words.  The 
heads  of  all  the  monks  were  shaven  and,  vested  in  tunics, 
they  were  rattling  off  Chinese  at  a  very  rapid  pace  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  tapping  instrument  that  was  almost 
perfectly  mechanical. 

A  few  noted  our  presence,  but  Father  Espelage  assumed  full 
proprietorship  and  conducted  us  almost  under  their  noses  to 
point  out  the  more  striking  features  of  the  establishment. 
When  we  had  seen  all  that  was  worth  seeing  we  watched  the 
close  of  the  exercise,  the  folding  of  the  tunics,  and  the  scattering 
of  the  bonzes,  one  of  whom  remained  to  take  our  measure. 
This  bonze  was  a  young  man  and  had  a  good  simple  face.  Father 
Espelage  at  once  put  him  through  a  catechism,  interpreting 
other  questions  which  I  was  anxious  to  have  answered,  and  the 

135 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

young  bonze  then  kindly  brought  us  back  into  the  monastery 
itself,  a  large  room  surrounded  with  sleeping  benches.  There 
we  learned  that  some  of  these  monks  are  single,  others  are 
married.  Some  are  poor,  others  well-to-do.  Most  of  them 
understand  very  little  of  the  prayers  which  they  recite  daily. 
As  we  passed  out  we  looked  into  a  spacious  garden  which  is 
cultivated  by  or  under  their  direction. 

After  a  few  turns  we  were  at  the  Tien-chu-tang,  as  the  Catholic 
church  is  commonly  known.  Bishop  Gennaro  was  working  on 
the  plan  of  an  altar  as  we  entered  his  room,  a  dusty-looking 
apartment  in  one  corner  of  the  large  rambling,  two-storied  house 
that  means  home  also  to  Father  Espelage  and  other  priests, 
including  the  Seminary  professors.  The  Bishop  was  gracious  and 
simple,  and  I  yielded  easily  to  his  suggestion  that  I  stay  at 
Wuchang  a  day  longer  than  I  had  planned. 

My  room  was  one  of  several  that  opened  out  on  a  broad 
veranda  which  a  panorama  view  of  Wuchang  made  particularly 
pleasant,  and  after  settling  down  in  it  for  about  six  minutes 
I  answered  the  summons  from  the  "grand  mandarin,"  Father 
Espelage,  to  take  my  first  look  at  his  school. 

There  are  quite  a  few  schools  in  Wuchang,  including  Boone 
College  (Protestant),  a  prosperous-looking  group  of  buildings 
which  we  visited  the  next  day  and  which,  from  a  material  point 
of  view,  make  the  school  over  which  Father  Espelage  presides 
look  small  and  poorly  equipped. 

Father  Espelage  has  a  hundred  and  twenty  pupils  and  his 
College,  which  is  making  rapid  strides,  is  recognized  by  the 
Government  and  is  beginning  to  attract  the  attention  of  pagan 
parents  as  well  as  of  those  Christians  who  can  afford  to  educate 
their  boys.  But  Father  Espelage  has  too  much  work  to  do  and 
he  should  get  sufficient  men  and  means  from  his  home  country. 
English-speaking  teachers  are  needed,  and  Franciscans  in  the 
United  States  are  in  a  position  to  advance  the  important  College 
to  a  high  place  among  the  educational  centres  of  the  Yangtze 
valley  in  China.  I  am  certain  that  if  they  can  be  made  to  realize 
this  opportunity  they  will  respond.  Too  many  Catholic  mission 
enterprises  lack  support  and  development  because  their  needs 
are  not  properly  impressed  on  the  stay-at-homes. 

136 


o 

so 


o 
o 

1) 


O 
< 


s  o 


O 


C/2 

O 

H 
U 

1-1 
.-I 
o 
u 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  was  much  pleased  with  this  young  College  at  Wuchang  and 
with  the  spirit  that  is  back  of  it,  but  the  push  that  it  needs 
should  be  given  without  delay  to  such  a  point  that  it  cannot  fall 
backward,  as  it  is  liable  to  do  just  now  were  anything  to  happen 
to  its  Director. 

The  priests  whom  I  found  at  Bishop  Gennaro's  table  are, 
like  all  the  missioners  whom  I  have  had  the  privilege  to  meet 
along  the  line,  a  bright,  thoughtful  set  of  men.  Most  of  these 
were  Italians  but  among  them  was  a  dear  old  Chinese  priest, 
Father  Francis  Xavier  Tch'en,  who  had  made  his  course  in 
Italy,  where  later  he  had  been  a  professor.  His  face  beamed 
with  kindness  and  intelligence. 

Among  the  Italians  were  two  of  distinctly  opposite  types — 
one  a  silent  man  with  a  black  moustache,  who  wore  a  cloth 
skull  cap  towards  the  side  of  his  head  and  looked  at  first  glance 
like  a  Neopolitan  bandit ;  the  other,  silver-bearded  and  vivacious, 
with  a  face  like  an  oratorio  maestro,  a  man  whose  presence  at 
recreation  was  always  a  stimulant  to  wit  and  laughter.  Both 
were  earnest  and  zealous,  each  in  his  way. 

The  old  Chinese  priest,  who  had  come  over  to  Wuchang  from 
his  parish  at  Hankow,  was  fond  of  poetry,  which  he  composed 
for  two  occasions  during  my  short  stay  (to  which,  however,  the 
poems  had  no  reference),  reciting  it  in  Latin,  Italian, 
and  Chinese. 

Some  Varieties  of  Social  Service. 

Classes  begin  in  the  Wuchang  College  at  seven-thirty  a.  m. 
so  that  at  ten  on  Monday  Father  Sylvester  was  ready  to  act 
again  as  guide.  We  started  out  by  a  round-about-way  for  a 
new  convent  where  a  community  of  Chinese  virgins,  who  until 
recently  had  lived  each  in  her  own  home,  was  being  formally 
inaugurated  by  the  Bishop.  We  first  stopped  at  the  orphanage 
directed  by  a  small  group  of  Canossian  nuns,  some  of  whom 
had  gone  to  the  reception.  It  was  a  hasty  inspection  and  as 
we  passed  through  the  abandoned  infant  ward  the  Sister  said 
that  they  had  found  only  one  babe  that  day.  We  looked  for 
it  in  vain,  but  an  old  Chinese  nurse  smiled  and  disclosed  it 
under  a  blanket.     I  felt  as  if  we  had  been  searching  for  an  egg. 

137 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

Poor  little  waif!  I  wondered  if  it  would  live  to  suffer,  or 
die  a  "thief  of  heaven."  A  wet  nurse  would  take  it  that  day  if 
its  condition  proved  good  and  the  Sisters  would  pay  that  nurse 
fourteen  hundred  cash  a  month.  Now,  don't  think  that  our 
Sisters  in  China  are  rich,  or  that  wet-nurses  are  highly  paid  here. 
Fourteen  hundred  cash  in  normal  times  means  seventy  American 
coppers.  Just  now  its  value  would  be  nearer  one  dollar — less 
than  four  cents  a  day  for  the  feeding,  housing  and  care  of  an 
infant. 

We  passed  out  through  a  rising  alley,  picturesque  even  in  its 
dirt,  and  mounted  to  the  height  of  the  city  wall  so  as  to  get  a 
general  view  of  the  three  cities.  Incidentally,  Father  Espelage 
pointed  out  a  spot  at  the  ramparts  over  which  Father  Mullin, 
a  Canadian,  managed  to  escape  during  the  latest  siege  of  the 
city.  He  was  let  down  by  a  rope.  I  was  sorry  to  have  missed 
seeing  this  other  St.  Paul,  who  is  one  of  Maryknoll's  friends, 
but  his  Mission  was  too  remote  to  allow  either  of  us  to  get  to  the 
other. 

By  a  labyrinth  of  alleys  we  reached  the  convent,  a  new 
structure,  well  open  to  air  and  sun,  with  a  garden  for  vegetables 
as  well  as  for  recreation.  The  sedan  chair  in  which  the  Bishop 
had  been  brought  was  in  the  courtyard  and  we  were  just  in  time 
for  the  after-ceremony  dinner,  which  was  so  successfully  pre- 
pared by  the  good  nuns  that  a  hungry  dog  had  to  be  driven 
from  the  table  several  times.  Among  other  dishes  that  I  recall 
were  some  sparrows  and  preserved  eggs,  almost  jet  black. 

I  met  the  Chinese  Sisters  afterwards,  and  the  impression 
which  I  carried  away  was  of  a  very  happy  community  of  nuns, 
who  could  combine  a  sense  of  humor  with  serious  work. 

Later  Father  Espelage  brought  me  into  a  forum  where  a 
young  Chinese  orator  was  talking  on  the  various  resources  of  his 
great  country.  These  orators  are  many  and  are  in  the  service 
of  the  Government.  If  all  audiences  are  to  be  judged  by  that 
which  we  saw  it  will  take  a  long  time  to  impress  the  Chinese 
with  new  ideas,  but  the  movement  is  apparently  a  good  one. 

China  just  now  is  "in  a  sad  way."  The  revolution  of  1911 — 
the  year  of  Maryknoll's  birth — brought  about  the  downfall  of 
a  house  known  as  the  Manchu  Dynasty,  that  had  ruled  China 

138 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

for  more  than  two  hundred  and  sixty  years,  and  introduced  a 
Republic.  Dr.  Sun-Yat-Tsen,  who  was  made  provisional 
President,  seems  to  have  had  some  good  ideas  but  was  in  too 
much  of  a  hurry.  (By  the  way,  in  Honolulu  the  Brothers  of 
Mary  spoke  well  of  the  Doctor's  son,  who  was  one  of  their  pupils.) 
Yuan-Shih-kai  was  selected  as  the  first  actual  President  but 
before  he  died,  in  1916,  he  wanted  to  become  Emperor.  This 
attempt  brought  on  all  kinds  of  complications  and  his  passing 
away  cleared  the  situation.  The  Vice-President  then  became 
the  actual  head  of  the  Government.  But  troubles  continued. 
A  long  dead-lock  in  the  House  of  Assembly  was  finally  dissolved. 
New  legislators  were  not  selected  to  satisfy  the  South  and  the 
country  fell  into  civil  war,  which  just  now  is  tending  to  disrupt 
it  and  is  certainly  preventing  development. 

I  have  seen  at  close  range  very  little  Protestant  mission 
enterprise  since  I  came  to  the  Far  East,  although  I  know  that 
it  is  extensive  and  that  no  less  than  twenty  millions  of  dollars 
are  expended  yearly  to  make  it  a  success. 

While  in  Wuchang  I  looked  into  Boone  College,  which  is 
under  the  American  Episcopalians.  Father  Espelage  was  with 
me  and  the  Director  brought  us  through  the  Divinity  School  and 
over  the  grounds.  The  atmosphere  was  that  of  a  well-kept 
private  college  in  America,  with  a  grouping  of  excellent  buildings 
— dormitories,  recitation-hall,  laboratory,  library, assembly  room, 
gymnasium,  ball-field,  flower-bordered  paths,  and  lawns.  A 
large  band  composed  of  students  was  at  rehearsal  on  one  of  the 
lawns  and  I  am  sure  that  its  proficiency  must  have  brought 
a  shade  of  green  into  the  eyes  of  Father  Sylvester,  who  has  been 
at  his  wits'  end  to  find  out  how  he  can  scrape  up  some  money 
to  form  a  similar  organization  at  his  College.  The  students  at 
Boone  College  pay  for  tuition  and  board  but  scholarships  are 
provided  for  the  poorer  ones.  I  do  not  recall  the  roster  but  am 
under  the  impression  that  it  includes  more  than  three  hundred. 

Another  Protestant  institution  at  Wuchang,  also  under 
American  Episcopalian  auspices,  is  St.  Hilda's  School  for  girls, 
which  we  visited.  This  school  is  an  off-shoot  of  Boone  College 
and  occupies  one  large  building  with  a  few  smaller  houses  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  city.     It  is  well-built  and  attractive,  but 

139 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

quite  simple  in  its  furnishings.  One  of  the  principal  attractions 
in  both  of  these  schools  is  the  opportunity  to  study  under  English- 
speaking  teachers. 

We  were  very  kindly  received  in  each  establishment.  At 
Boone  I  found  that  we  had  American  friends  in  common. 
At  St.  Hilda's,  one  of  the  recently  arrived  professors  had  visited 
MaryknoU  with  a  Catholic  friend. 

As  we  were  returning  from  these  two  visits  I  noticed  In 
the  corridor  of  the  Bishop's  house  an  insane  man  whom  I  had 
remarked  once  before  about  the  premises.  On  inquiry  I  learned 
that  he  was  a  harmless  idiot,  allowed  to  live  within  the  church 
precincts  because  here  in  China  there  are  no  asylums  for  such 
unfortunates.  Occasionally  the  man  imagines  that  he  is  the 
Bishop  and  he  gives  pontifical  blessings.  He  does  not  appear 
to  get  on  the  nerves  of  those  who  see  him  daily,  and  I  cannot 
but  admire  the  spirit  of  charity  of  those  who  provide  with  them- 
selves a  home  for  these  poor  outcasts.  Every  mission  orphanage 
has  its  share  of  idiots,  some  of  them  once  abandoned  waifs  who 
have  been  brought  up  and  will  remain  till  death  under  the  pro- 
tection of  other  Chris ts  and  other  Marys,  who  so  nobly  repre- 
sent their  Master  on  these  remote  fields. 

The  Canossian  Sisters. 

On  Wednesday  I  went  back  to  Hankow,  where  my  most 
profitable  visit  was  to  the  house  of  the  Canossian  Daughters  of 
Charity.  These  Sisters  were  founded  a  little  more  than  a  hundred 
years  ago  by  a  titled  Italian  lady  of  Canossa. 

I  had  seen  a  few  of  them  in  Wuchang,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
Their  work,  like  that  of  the  Sisters  of  Charity  in  Peking  and 
Chengtingfu,  seemed  endless  in  variety  and  remarkable  in 
achievement.  It  included  an  orphanage,  a  "Holy  Infancy,"  a 
hospital,  schools  for  the  poor,  a  catechumenate,  an  English 
school  for  well-to-do  Chinese  girls,  a  boarding-school  for  European 
girls,  a  European  hospital,  a  Chinese  hospital,  and  a  dispensary. 
Nearly  all  of  these  works  are  on  a  large  scale  and  the  Sisters  are 
struggling  hard  with  their  small  force  to  keep  them  up,  although 
since  the  beginning  of  the  war  they  have  received  no  recruits 
from  Italy. 

140 


rt 

C 

c 

•u 

O 

a 

o 

r^ 

'fi^ 

o 

s 

"^ 

•-<-l 

<t 

o 

HH 

T3 

l-H 

G 

*^ 

.— * 

k; 

.i^ 

►^ 

F-G 

.SP 

^ 

'C 

l-H 

OJ 

r^ 

w 

— ' 

a 

'cS 

w 

C/1 

hj 

-l-» 

vA 

'tn 

O 

^-* 

U 

_C 

u 

h-l 

U 

J 

_a 

o 

It* 

en 

i-i-i 

C 

H 

rj 

< 

E^ 

U 

CJ 

C 

H 

t— 1 

1-^ 

a 

H 

C 

rt 

C-i 

_u 

^ 

1> 

g 

in 

,5 

a 

m 

^ 

1— 1 

I) 

U 

1 

oi; 

0 

a 

0 

■*-> 

X 

"J 

w 

o 

0 

;^ 

(U 

)— t 

C 

in 

0 

O 

^ 

J 

to 

U 

iH 

"oj 

a 

a. 

s 

H 

^ 

lU 

-*-» 

tn 

<u 

> 

c/: 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  orphans,  in  two  divisions,  counting  all  told  at  least 
a  hundred,  were  very  neat.  The  hospital  for  Europeans  looked 
inviting  enough  to  make  me  wish  that  I  could  be  laid  up  for  a 
week.  The  Chinese  hospital  had  several  interesting  cases, 
including  four  soldiers  who  had  been  brought  in  wounded  that 
day  from  down  the  line  towards  Changsha;  and  at  the  operating 
table,  where  a  man's  upper  arm  was  cut  and  exposed,  a  Chinese 
attendant,  who  never  made  a  course  in  medicine  but  is  "a 
wonder,"  was  hard  at  work. 

In  the  European  school  I  found  two  young  Irish  girls, 
sisters,  named  Dunn,  who  had  been  born  in  China  and  did  not 
know  from  what  part  of  Ireland  father  came,  nor  did  they 
know  if  they  were  related  to  MaryknoU's  "Uncle  John."  The 
English  school  for  Chinese  girls  was  more  interesting,  and 
when  in  answer  to  my  inquiry  the  Superioress  called  for  the 
Christians  to  step  into  the  aisle  they  all  did  so  with  alacrity 
except  one,  who  timidly  asked,  "May  I?"  She  had  not  yet 
been  baptized  but  was  under  instruction  and  anxious  not  to  be 
classed  as  a  pagan.  I  felt  a  little  embarrassed  at  the  position  in 
which  my  desire  for  information  had  placed  the  pagan  pupils, 
but  they  themselves  did  not  seem  to  mind  it. 

In  both  of  the  English  schools  the  Sisters  are  handicapped  for 
lack  of  native  born  English-speaking  teachers  and  they  would 
gladly  welcome  even  a  few  years  of  service  from  a  capable  and 
well-recommended  American  Catholic  woman — an  excellent 
opportunity  for  some  good  soul  who  is  not  afraid  of  a  long  ocean 
voyage  and  a  far-away  home. 

It  was  not  until  the  next  day  that  I  saw  in  active  operation 
a  typical  mission  dispensary.  Fully  a  hundred  people — men, 
women,  and  children — were  at  the  dispensary  door  when  I 
went  across  the  street  again  to  the  hospital.  Inside  were  six 
young  Chinamen  and  the  "wonder,"  all  in  long  white  tires  with 
sleeves  rolled  up  ready  for  the  fray.  At  a  signal  the  patients 
were  speedily  classified,  and  treatment  according  to  the 
nature  of  the  complaint  was  administered  by  the  Chinese 
attendants  or  the  Sisters  themselves.  The  medicine  bill 
must  run  up  to  a  heavy  figure  in  this  dispensary,  but  no 
one  is  turned  away. 

141 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Shortly  before  my  departure  that  afternoon  two  Chinese  girls 
came  to  ask  if  I  would  go  over  to  the  Canossian  Sisters  again. 
I  did  so,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  collection  of  excellent  photo- 
graphs and  a  deeper  insight  into  the  fine  spirit  of  the  Italian  com- 
munity which  should  be  known  in  our  country. 

As  the  Superioress  and  her  assistant  accompanied  me  to  the 
door  we  found  in  the  corridor  two  hampers,  over  which  two 
elderly  Chinese  women  attendants  were  watching.  The  Superi- 
oress asked  a  few  questions,  and,  lifting  the  cloth  from  one  of 
the  baskets,  disclosed  three  tiny  infants,  remarking  to  me  as  she 
did  so  that  they  had  been  brought  in  while  we  were  talking. 
A  fourth  was  in  the  second  basket,  and  the  Sisters  lifted  each 
little  bundle  of  humanity  out  of  its  place  to  get  a  light  on  its 
little  face.  They  were,  as  usual,  all  girls.  Two  were  weaklings 
and  two  seemed  strong.  The  Sisters  were  prepared  to  place  out 
immediately  with  nursing  mothers  two,  who  should  first,  however, 
be  baptized;  and  then  and  there,  on  her  request,  I  baptized 
both — one  Mary,  the  other  Ann. 

Two  thousand,  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  these  little  ones  have 
been  left  at  the  door  of  the  Canossian  Sisters  in  Hankow  since 
January  1  of  this  year.  A  large  number  have  gone  to  God,  the 
others  are  in  the  care  of  respectable  women.  Christians  and 
pagans,  who  come  every  month  to  make  their  report  and  to  receive 
their  meagre  pay — a  few  cents.  When  between  two  and  three 
years  old  these  waifs  will  join  the  happy  groups  of  orphans 
whom  I  had  seen  the  day  before.  And  the  Sisters,  who  live 
daily  from  hand  to  mouth,  with  faith  in  God's  bounty  and  the 
charity  of  Jesus  Christ  in  their  hearts,  accept  joyfully  the  added 
burdens  of  each  day,  glad  in  the  reflection  that  they  themselves 
are  instrumental  in  the  regeneration  of  so  many  souls,  begotten 
or  abandoned  in  sin  and  made  fit  for  Heaven. 

That  evening  I  took  my  boat,  the  Tucwo,  for  Shanghai. 
Five  of  the  priests  walked  down  to  the  Bund  with  me  and 
as  I  left  them  I  felt  that  I  was  the  better  for  my  stay  among  the 
Franciscans  of  Hankow. 


142 


o 

^. 
-n 

te 
>— I 

CO 

Pi 

W 
H 

C/3 
I— I 

I— I 

O 

o 

H 

o 

w 

CO 
h- 1 

H 


H 
O 


ti4 


OBSERV  AT  IONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


CHAPTER  X 


UP  THE  YANGTZE  TO  SHANGHAI 

HERE  were  four  large  steamers  leaving  that 
Wednesday  night  for  Shanghai,  Mine  was  an 
English  vessel,  spacious  and  well-arranged.  There 
were  only  two  classes,  white  and  Chinese,  and  in 
the  white  class  there  were  only  three  passengers, 
all  men,  so  that  I  found  myself  for  all  practical 
purposes  in  a  first-class  private  yacht.  The  Chinese 
below  were  never  visible  from  the  upper  deck,  but  when  occasion- 
ally I  passed  through  their  quarters  it  seemed  as  if  they  numbered 
hundreds.  There  was  also  much  freight,  cotton  especially, 
which  in  huge  bales  had  been  carried  into  the  holds  on  the  backs 
of  a  swarm  of  coolies 

The  next  morning  we  made  a  long  stop  in  the  province  of 
Kiang-si  at  Kiukiang,  which  gave  me  a  much  desired  oppor- 
tunity to  visit  the  Cathedral  and  also  to  meet  two  English- 
speaking  Sisters  of  Charity  at  the  hospital.  Bishop  Fatiguet, 
a  Lazarist,  was  away,  but  his  Procurator  received  me  cordially 
and  brought  me  to  the  Seminary,  where  I  found  among  the  pro- 
fessors marked  and  sympathetic  interest  in  America's  new 
venture. 

Sister  Vincent  McCarthy,  who  is  Superior  at  the  hospital, 
is  a  native  of  Cork,  Ireland,  and  has  been  long  years  in  China, 
The  other  English-speaking  Sister  has  been  here  over  twenty 
years  and  belongs  to  one  of  the  best  known  families  of  England.* 
At  their  request  we  visited,  when  going  to  the  Seminary, 
the  orphanage  where  again  I  found  workrooms,  schools,  catechu- 
menate,  a  hospital  and  a  dispensary  under  the  direction  of 
Sisters  of  Charity,  among  whom  was  one  who  had  been  a  com- 
panion of  Blessed  Gabriel  Perboyre's  sister,  a  much-loved 
foreign  mission  nun. 

Father  Zigenhorn,  who  piloted  me  in  Kiukiang,  is  a  Hollander 
and  dresses  like  a  Chinese.  As  his  dog  likes  a  fight  the  priest 
carries  a  "big  stick."    We  made  a  short  cut  by  taking  a  sampan 

♦Sister  Clare  Fielding,  the  sister  of  Lord  Denbigh.  Sister  Fielding  died  a  few  months 
later  while  caring  for  the  flood  refugees  at  Chengtingfu,  among  whom  an  epidemic  had 
Iproken  out. 


143 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

across  the  water  in  a  Venetian  section  and  returned  to  my 
steamer  in  good  time,  after  catching  a  gUmpse  on  the  way  of 
Father  Zigenhorn's  class  of  boys  who  are  quite  ambitious  to 
learn  EngHsh. 

Wuhu  was  the  next  stop.  We  arrived  there  at  four  o'clock 
Friday  morning  and  anchored  out  in  the  stream,  but  I  could  not 
get  ashore  and  had  to  be  satisfied  with  a  rather  hazy  view  of  the 
Jesuit  buildings,  which  seemed  to.be  quite  large,  on  the  hill  not 
far  from  the  river  bank.  Wuhu  is  in  the  province  of  Anhwei 
which,  with  Kiang-su,  is  controlled  by  the  Jesuits. 

On  one  of  the  mountains  above  Kiukiang  is  a  well-known  re- 
sort, Kuling,  to  which  more  than  twelve  hundred  white  people 
go  yearly  to  get  away  from  the  summer  heat.  A  great  section 
of  this  summer  community  is  made  up  of  Protestant  missioners 
and  their  families  who,  I  understand,  practically  "shut  up  shop" 
to  get  away  from  the  intense  heat.  This  summer  exodus  of 
Protestant  missioners  to  Kuling  and  elsewhere  is  much  comment- 
ed upon  in  the  Far  East,  but  the  average  minister  must  look  out 
for  the  health  of  his  family  and  if  his  flock  can  be  provided  for 
his  point  of  view  can  be  appreciated.  The  strongest  criticism 
comes  from  the  fact  that  provision  is  not  always  made  to  replace 
the  absent  minister. 

I  asked  an  old  Sister  of  Charity  why  her  Order  did  not 
provide  in  the  hills  a  sanatorium  for  those  members  of  the 
community  who  needed  toning  up,  and  she  looked  at  me  aghast. 
I  insisted,  however,  that  it  was  the  sensible  thing  to  do,  and 
her  only  reply  was,  "What  would  people  think  of  us?"  I  sug- 
gested then  that  the  Sisters  should  provide  in  some  healthful  spot 
a  sanatorium  for  the  laity,  reserving  a  few  rooms  for  the  needs 
of  their  own  invalids,  but  I  fear  that  I  spoke  in  vain — if,  in  fact, 
I  did  not  shock  again.  I  believe  that  some  missionary  priests 
have  a  house  at  Kuling,  but  I  did  not  get  full  data  on  this. 

My  two  fellow  passengers  and  the  captain  on  the  Tucwo  were 
British  (two  Scotch  and  one  English),  and  we  four  made  a 
cozy  family. 

One  of  the  Scotchmen  paid  a  high  tribute  to  the  Sisters' 
hospital  at  Hankow,  where  he  had  experienced  "care  that  could 
not  have  been  better."    Later  in  the  trip  he  confided  to  me  some 

144 


j/t;^,„iji,tiitig„it,i,;,„^ii^^^i,i^j;^ 


■HMH 


j:amimitm 


I.    A  Buddhist  monastery  on  ihe  Yangtze 
2  and  3.     At  Kiukiang:  a  —  A  Chinese  nun;  b  —  Fr.  Zigenhorn,  a  Dutch  missioner 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

of  his  religious  difficulties.  He  had  been  in  the  Far  East  for  a 
score  of  years  and  was  beginning  to  think  that  he  should  look  at 
life  more  seriously.  The  ghost  of  Mary  Baker  Eddy  and  the 
shades  of  Sir  Oliver  Lodge  were  haunting  him,  and  I  tried  to 
help  him  to  see  ahead  a  little  more  clearly. 

The  Yangtze  River  trip  was  too  good  to  last,  and  I  recall 
it  as  a  short  holiday,  quiet  and  undisturbed. 

A  Welcome  at  Shanghai. 

We  passed  along  the  quays  of  Shanghai  towards  noon  on 
Saturday,  November  24 — a  bright  morning  that  revealed  the 
long  line  of  modern  buildings  which  have  already  marked  Shang- 
hai as  the  New  York  of  China. 

As  I  stood  at  the  rail  with  my  Scotch  companion  a  layman 
on  the  wharf  was  apparently  trying  to  attract  his  attention, 
but  there  was  no  recognition  for  some  mom.ents,  when  I  dis- 
covered that  "my  humble  person,"  as  a  Chinaman  might  say 
and  not  think,  was  the  object  signalled.  It  was  C — ,  the  Irishman 
who,  at  Kobe  in  Japan,  had  pulled  me  out  of  a  tight  fix.  He 
had  come  down  to  give  me  a  "hundred  thousand  welcomes" ;  and 
before  I  left  Shanghai  he  had  practically  succeeded. 

The  Fathers  of  the  Paris  Seminary  Procure  were  also  repre- 
sented at  the  wharf;  and  without  trouble,  as  usual,  I  was  soon 
on  my  way  in  a  Shanghai  coach  to  Route  Pere  Robert — a  fine 
new  street  named  after  one  of  Maryknoll's  good  friends  who  for 
many  years  had  been  a  resident  in  Shanghai. 

I  had  not  met  a  priest  of  the  Paris  Society  since  leaving 
Mukden  in  Manchuria,  and  although  I  had  received  much 
kindness  from  the  Lazarists  and  Franciscans,  I  found  myself 
especially  at  home  in  the  Paris  Society  Procure  at  Route  Pere 
Robert,  where  I  made  headquarters  for  the  next  two  and  a 
half  weeks. 

Father  Sallou  isinchargeof  the  Procure,  with  Father  Gereyas 
assistant.  The  house  is  commodious  and  the  grounds,  extensive 
and  attractive,  give  every  opportunity  for  a  quiet  retreat. 
Chrysanthemums  were  still  blooming  when  I  arrived  in  Shanghai 
and  there  were  many  in  the  Procure  garden.  The  two  priests 
go  daily  to  their  office  which  is  near  the  boats.  There  they  arrange 

145 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

for  the  needs  of  the  several  missions  entrusted  to  their  Society, 
administer  the  Society's  funds  and  investments,  and  edit  a 
daily  paper,  UEcho  de  Chine.  They  return  by  electric  car  at 
noon  for  "tiffin,"  the  Shanghai  midday  meal,  for  which  I  was 
not  too  late  on  the  day  of  my  arrival. 

At  the  table  I  found  a  French  soldier,  who  turned  out  to  be  a 
missioner  from  Yunnan  on  garrison  duty  at  Shanghai.  The 
Assistant-Procurator  is  also  obliged  to  put  on  his  soldier's  uniform 
periodically  and  present  himself  at  the  barracks. 

When  my  friends  had  returned  to  their  work  I  settled  down  to 
a  busy  though  restful  afternoon. 

Circling  the  City. 

Sunday  morning  was  delightful  and  in  the  bracing  air  Father 
Gerey  and  I  started  out  for  my  first  inspection  of  Shanghai .  1 1  was 
hard  to  realize  that  I  was  still  in  China  as  we  entered  broad 
thoroughfares  lined  with  residences  such  as  one  might  find  in 
any  large  city  of  America. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  St.  Mary's  Hospital,  a  few  minutes  away 
on  the  Route  Pere  Robert.  The  grounds  are  large  and  the 
buildings,  though  recent,  already  numerous  and  well  equipped. 
Sister  Xavier  O'Sullivan  is  here,  an  Irish  nun  who  has  labored 
many  years  in  China  and  noted  great  changes  in  her  day.  I  did 
not  see  her  on  this  occasion,  as  she  had  been  on  duty  during 
the  night  and  was  taking  a  well-earned  rest,  but  Sister  Gertrude, 
also  English-speaking,  was  in  active  service  and  glad  to  meet  an 
American  priest. 

We  found  at  the  hospital  a  priest  from  Korea,  who  had 
passed  through  Nagasaki  just  before  my  arrival  there.  He 
looked  very  ill  and  I  could  not  but  regret  that  he  had  to  come  so 
long  a  distance  before  getting  the  care  that  he  needed,  but  there 
are  few  Catholic  hospitals  in  Korea  or  Japan.  A  Jesuit  priest 
was  convalescing  in  the  adjoining  room. 

After  leaving  the  hospital  we  visited  the  Aurora  University. 
This  too,  is  new,  an  off-shoot  of  the  Jesuit  establishment  at 
Sicawei,  and  it  marks  an  important  step  by  Catholics  in  the 
direction  of  higher  education.  The  University  grounds  are  ample 
and  the  few  buildings  already  erected  are  of  a  permanent  kind. 

146 


•T- 


Cl 

:^ 

^ 

^ 

« 

r:l 

O 

^ 

t-0 

^ 

■*-* 

- 1, 

--\ 

-^ 

^ 

X, 

a 
^ 

•^ 

'^ 

/ 

11 

*\ 

Cl 

•«i. 


-a 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

Courses  have  been  begun  and  students  from  several  sections  of 
the  province  occupy  the  first  dormitory.  Of  these  students 
some  are  pagan.  The  Christians  have  their  own  separate 
quarters  but  mingle  with  pagan  students  at  recreation.  The 
Aurora  is  within  the  Hmits  of  the  French  Concession  and  the 
language  generally  used  in  the  school  is  French.  Several  with 
whom  I  spoke  at  Shanghai  are  of  the  opinion  that  the  Aurora 
would  develop  more  rapidly  with  the  English  language  as  a 
vehicle  of  teaching. 

This  language  question  is  difficult.  The  Chinese  have  much 
to  learn  and  are  anxious  to  learn  from  other  nations.  Textbooks, 
however,  are  not  to  be  found  in  their  own  language  and  technical 
terms  lare  practically  impossible  to  translate,  so  that  some  modern 
language  is  necessary  in  the  education  of  Chinese  students. 
Which  should  it  be?  In  some  subjects  English  would  be  most 
practical,  in  others  some  one  of  the  Continental  languages. 
Which  of  the  languages  foreign  to  China  is  for  all  practical 
purposes  the  best  today,  and  which  will  be  the  longer  needed 
before  China  can  stand  alone?  This  is  a  question  which  the 
Catholic  missioner  should  view  with  absolute  impartiality. 

The  Fathers  at  the  Aurora  were  most  courteous  and  I  was 
sorry  to  have  seen  so  little  of  them,  but  we  were  headed  for 
St.  Joseph's,  where  Bishop  Paris  resides,  and  the  morning  was 
advancing.  An  electric  car  brought  us  to  St.  Joseph's  just  as 
the  congregation  was  leaving  the  church.  I  ran  into  Mr.  C — 
with  a  group  of  young  men,  American,  English,  and  Irish, 
and  the  complexion  of  the  entire  congregation  impressed  me  with 
the  idea  that  I  was  in  some  English-speaking  country.  I  was 
told  that  in  Shanghai  there  are  more  than  fifteen  hundred 
English-speaking  Catholics. 

Father  Kennelly,  S.  J.,  of  Sicawei,  outside  of  the  city, 
preaches  in  English  at  St.  Joseph's  every  other  Sunday,  but 
every  English-speaking  Catholic  whom  I  met  deplored  the  lack 
of  some  English-speaking  priest  or  priests  to  guard  more  closely 
and  to  enter  more  fully  into  the  life  of  the  English-speaking 
Catholic  body  in  Shanghai.  Strangely  enough,  Protestants 
spoke  to  me  on  the  subject  in  favor  of  their  Catholic  friends  and 
even  the  American  Consul  made  allusion  to  this  special  need. 

147 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

We  did  not  stay  long  at  St.  Joseph's.  Bishop  Paris  was  away 
and  the  priests  were  not  in  evidence.  We  discovered  one, 
however,  and  after  I  had  arranged  to  see  the  Bishop  on  Tuesday 
we  returned  to  the  Procure. 

A  Tea-brew  at  C — 's. 

I  had  promised  Mr.  C —  to  take  a  cup  of  tea  with  him  at  his 
bachelor  home  that  afternoon,  when  I  should  meet  a  few  of  his 
friends.  The  brew  was  to  take  place  at  four-thirty,  and  at  four 
I  found  a  "coach  and  four"  waiting  for  me.  The  coach  was  a 
coup6,  the  usual  Shanghai  equipage  that  stands  in  respectability 
half-way  between  a  rickshaw  and  a  Ford.  The  four  were  made 
up  of  the  driver,  the  foot-man,  one  of  C — 's  "boys,"  sent  expressly 
to  guide  the  driver,  and  myself.  The  white  man  lives  like  a 
prince  over  here  and  as  I  am  supposed  to  be  white  I  get  occasional 
treatment  of  this  kind. 

Along  the  boulevards  the  sprightly  little  horse  galloped, 
then  down  into  a  business  quarter  that  was  in  full  operation 
(there  is  no  Sunday  here),  until  after  several  turns  we  passed 
into  streets  lined  with  small  private  dwellings  such  as  one  might 
find  in  Montreal  and  in  some  cities  of  the  United  States;  and 
with  a  sweep  of  the  hand  the  "boy"  landed  me  at  Mr.  C — 's — 
back  door. 

Back-doors  are  no  novelty  to  me,  and  I  threaded  my  way 
through  tin-cans  and  half-a-dozen  Chinese  domestics  into 
the  house,  where  I  surprised  a  guard  at  the  front  door  and  embar- 
rassed my  friend  C — ,  who  was  surrounded  by  about  two  score 
of  men.  To  each  and  all  of  these  I  was  introduced.  England, 
Ireland,  Australia,  Canada,  the  United  States,  in  fact  about 
every  English-speaking  country  I  knew  of,  were  represented 
in  that  little  circle,  which  also  included  three  converts. 

I  had  expected  to  meet  and  chat  over  a  cup  of  tea  with 
three  or  four,  and  here  was  a  serious  assemblage  that  soon  made 
me  realize  they  looked  upon  my  arrival  as  a  ray  of  hope  for 
them.  I  had  to  listen  to  complaints  and  say  some  words  of 
encouragement;  and  I  did  both,  with,  I  trust,  no  unfortunate 
results.  A  difficulty  came,  however,  when  these  earnest  men 
proposed  a  reception.    So  far  as  I  could  figure  out  I  was  even 

148 


SHANGHAI,  THE  NEW   YORK  OF   CHINA 
The  Water  Front.         2.    St.  Mary's  Hospital        3.   The  Paris  Society  Procure 


OBSERV  AT  I  ON  S    IN    THE    ORIENT 

then  attending  a  reception  of  a  fair  representation  of  English- 
speaking  Catholic  Shanghai  residents,  and  I  doubted  the  need 
or  the  wisdom  of  anything  more  formal,  but  my  friend  C —  and 
others  insisted  so  strongly  that  I  finally  agreed,  on  condition 
that  the  idea  and  the  place  would  be  quite  acceptable  to  Bishop 
Paris.  Later  a  date  was  fixed  and  I  promised  to  be  back  from 
Ningpo  in  time.  That  little  meeting  at  C — 's  house  was  a 
revelation  of  strong  faith  and  good  Catholic  hearts,  that  made 
one  feel  like  sacrificing  much  to  be  of  any  help  to  them. 

Among  the  Jesuits  at  Sicawei. 

Father  Sallou,  Procurator  at  Shanghai  for  the  Paris  Foreign 
Mission  Society,  is  a  busy  man,  with  the  responsibility  of  a 
daily  paper  on  his  shoulders.  I  took  some  of  his  precious  time 
the  next  afternoon,  but  the  morning  I  spent  at  Sicawei,  a  village 
about  twenty  minutes'  ride  in  the  electric  car  from  the  Procure. 

At  Sicawei  is  the  heart  of  the  Jesuit  body  in  the  province  of 
Kiang-nan.  The  establishment  is  so  considerable  that  to  get  a 
fair  appreciation  of  its  several  activities  one  should  spend  there 
at  least  a  full  day.  I  could  not  spare  this  much  time,  but  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  have  there  a  friend  in  Father  Kennelly, 
whom  I  had  met  in  the  United  States  and  whose  nephew  is 
actually  one  of  our  preparatory  students  at  Scranton.  Father 
K.  is  a  characteristically  loyal  Jesuit,  and  as  he  felt  that  there 
is  nothing  in  the  world  like  the  Sicawei  establishment  I  should 
see  it  all,  even  if  I  could  remain  only  for  the  morning. 

So  we  visited  the  large  new  church,  whose  exterior  pleased 
Father  K.  and  whose  interior  is  really  quite  fine,  generous 
enough,  too,  to  hold  a  couple  of  thousand  people.  We  passed 
from  there  to  the  work  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Holy  Souls,  which  I 
inspected  while  Father  K.  gave  a  half  hour's  conference  to  a 
group  of  children.  We  said  a  prayer  in  the  Carmelite  Convent 
chapel ;  looked  at  a  collection  of  antiques ;  passed  through  work- 
rooms where  young  men  and  boys  were  engaged  in  carving 
furniture,  moulding  brass,  printing,  book-binding,  and  various 
other  crafts;  entered  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  well-known 
Observatory;  saw  the  Seminary  for  native  priests;  and  finally 
at    lunch,    met    the    faculty — more    than  a  score  of  priests, 

149 


OBSERV  AT  I  ON  S    IN    THE    ORIENT 

French  and  Chinese  mostly,  with  Father  Kennelly  as  a 
background  of  green. 

The  Jesuits  are  responsible  for  the  entire  vicariate  of  Kiang- 
nan,  which  includes  two  provinces  of  China,  Kiang-su  and 
Anhwei,  with  a  joint  population  of  fifty  million.  Catholics, 
all  told,  in  these  provinces  number  less  than  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  and  Bishop  Paris,  who  is  at  present  alone  in  the 
episcopate  here,  has  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  European 
and  sixty-nine  Chinese  priests,  a  small  number  even  for  the 
Christians,  not  to  speak  of  the  millions  to  whom  as  yet  the  name 
of  Christ  means  nothing. 

If  the  strength  of  Christianity  in  this  section  of  China  could 
develop  in  proportion  to  the  growth  of  European  and  American 
interests  in  Shanghai  the  next  generation  would  witness  marvels. 
How  often  I  think  of  Our  Lord's  words,  "The  children  of  this 
world  are  wiser  in  their  generation  than  the  children  of  light." 
All  kinds  of  American  and  European  enterprises  are  represented 
in  Shanghai  and  every  boat  adds  to  its  foreign  population. 
Would  that  we  could  say  the  same  of  the  Church's  interests. 
Not  that  much  has  not  already  been  accomplished,  not  that  much 
is  not  being  done;  but  vastly  more  could  be  done,  and  this 
is  the  hour,  as  everybody  who  is  watching  China  knows  full  well. 

Lo  Pa  Hong  and  His  Charities. 

Monday  afternoon  Father  Sallou  took  me  to  several  places 
which  interested  me,  none  more  so  than  a  Chinese  hospital 
that  is  quite  unique.  The  establishment  of  this  hospital  is 
due  to  the  initiative  of  a  Catholic  Chinese  whose  name,  Lo  Pa 
Hong,  is  known  today  to  every  bishop  in  China.  This  Chinaman 
seems  to  be  a  real  apostle  and  his  one  aim  in  life,  to  which  every- 
thing else  must  be  subordinated,  is  to  save  souls.  He  is  still 
young — about  forty-five  years  of  age — with  a  large  family  and 
numerous  business  connections,  including  the  direction  of  the 
Chinese  Electric  Car  and  Electric  Light  companies  at  Shanghai. 
He  enjoys  the  respect  of  all  classes  of  people  and  his  example 
has  done  immeasurable  good.  I  am  told  that  he  serves  Mass  and 
receives  Holy  Communion  every  morning,  that  he  makes  his 
meditation  daily,  recites  the  office  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and 

150 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

says  frequent  rosaries,  even  while  traveling  about  the  city  in. 
his  automobile.  He  is  extremely  active  and  keeps  two  motor-cars 
almost  constantly  in  use. 

The  hospital  to  which  Father  Sallou  brought  me  is  only  a 
few  years  old  and  has  some  thirteen  hundred  patients.  These 
include  many  of  the  criminal  class,  prisoners  still  in  their  chains, 
opium  victims,  children  taken  by  the  police  from  the  streets 
and  out  of  dangerous  influences,  the  blind  and  the  helpless,  for 
whom  nobody  cares.  These  have  all  been  gathered  into  a 
hospital  which,  though  not  professedly  Catholic,  is  known  as 
St.  Joseph's  and  has  within  its  precincts  a  chapel  large  enough 
to  hold  one  thousand  persons. 

The  hospital  is  directed  by  the  Sisters  of  Charity  and  the 
Superior  seems  born  to  her  unusual  task.  She  is  an  Austrian 
lady  who  speaks  English  quite  perfectly,  and  one  of  her  assistants 
is  an  Irish  nun.  Both  are  interested  in  Maryknoll  and  my  visit 
gave  me  the  added  pleasure  of  meeting  friends.  Sister  Wagen- 
sperg,  the  Superior,  is  like  a  mother  to  the  unfortunate  and:  they 
seem  to  realize  it.  As  we  stood  in  one  ward  of  prisoners  I  gave  a 
sign  to  the  attendant,  who  took  me  over  to  one  of  the  beds  and, 
throwing  back  the  clothing,  disclosed  the  chained  feet  of  the 
invalid.  It  was  pathetic,  but  the  poor  fellow  did  not  seem  to 
mind.  He  smiled  over  at  the  Sister  and  as  we  passed  out  she 
told  me  of  another  who,  after  his  conversion,  expressed  a  fear 
that  he  could  not  enter  Heaven  because  he  would  die  with  his 
chains  on. 

For  the  support  of  this  hospital  the  Chinese  municipality 
stands  about  one-third  of  the  monthly  expense.  The  police 
of  the  city  contribute  another  third,  and  Mr.  Lo  gathers  the 
remainder  from  his  friends,  or,  as  he  would  say  himself,  St. 
Joseph  gets  it  for  him. 

There  was  a  comfortable-looking  private  ward  for  a  few 
well-dressed  young  opium-smokers,  who  looked  self-controlled 
and  were  not  embarrassed  by  our  inspection.  The  apartment 
was  quite  in  contrast  with  strong  cells,  behind  whose  bars  insane 
men  were  standing  or  sitting  in  the  silence  of  their  strange 
imaginings.  Among  the  invalid  prisoners  was  a  good-looking 
young  fellow  who  spoke  French  and  who  had  been  educated  at 

151 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

a  Catholic  school.  The  Sister  told  us  that  he  belonged  tc  a  well- 
known  family  and  had  been  arrested  when  in  company  with 
some  opium  smugglers.  All  of  the  others  implicated  managed  to 
escape  except  the  young  man,  who  claims  simply  to  have  been 
walking  near  the  smugglers,  quite  unconscious  of  their  occupa- 
tion. "Was  he  guilty?"  I  asked,  and  the  little  mother  shrugged 
her  shoulders.  Her  duty  was  to  take  care  of  him,  but  she  evident- 
ly had  a  good  opinion  of  the  boy. 

In  the  Irish  nun  I  found  another  possible  relative.  She  came 
from  a  place  called  Killea,  near  Cork,  and  as  my  ancestors 
wore  down  their  boots  in  that  section  of  Ireland  I  felt  quite 
certain  that  with  a  little  spare  time  and  a  couple  of  family  trees 
we  might  find  ourselves  kith  and  kin.  As  we  passed  along  the 
veranda  the  Irish  nun  pointed  to  a  vine  that  reminded  her  of 
the  "woodbine  at  home,"  such  as  I  knew  she  will  never  see  again. 
God  bless  her,  and  may  He  reward  her  many  sacrifices! 

At  a  Chinese  Wedding. 

We  called  at  another  church  that  afternoon  and  inspected 
a  club-house  occupied  by  Portuguese  Catholic  young  men. 
We  also  looked  into  a  new  parish  school,  and  as  we  came  out 
towards  the  church  I  learned  that  a  Chinese  wedding  was  in  full 
swing  around  the  corner.  My  curiosity  asserted  itself  when  the 
priest  told  me  that  the  interested  couple  were  Catholics,  and  at 
his  suggestion  we  took  a  few  steps  down  to  the  festivities. 
These  were  being  held  in  two  houses  facing  each  other,  both 
the  property  of  the  bride's  father-in-law.  This  gentleman  was 
beaming  with  joy  and  quickly  summoned  his  newly-married 
son  when  we  appeared.  The  bridegroom  seemed  quite  young, 
certainly  under  twenty.  He  had  a  good  face,  was  dressed  in  his 
best  silk,  and  smoked  his  cigarette  as  if  he  were  not  the  hero  of  the 
occasion.  He  talked  some  English,  too,  and  as  he  did  so  his  sire 
looked  at  him  with  conscious  pride. 

Then  there  was  a  consultation  in  Chinese,  which  I  did  not 
catch,  and  suddenly  the  youth  asked  if  my  noble  self  would 
like  to  accompany  his  humble  self  to  see  his  mother's  new 
daughter-in-law.  I  was  prepared,  and  leaving  my  two  compan- 
ions with  the  joyous  father  I  followed  the  son  into  the  house, 

152 


"A  Catholic  Chinese  whose  name  is  known  today 
to  every  bishop  in  China."     {p.  150.) 


IN  ST.  JOSEPHS,  THE  MODEL  HOSPITAL  FOUNDED  BY  MR    LO 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


On  the  wall  as  we  entered  was  a  great  picture  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  with  candles  burning  before  it.  Within  reach  of  all  was  a 
table  filled  with  dishes  of  watermelon  seeds  and  other  dainties. 
Then  we  seemed  to  climb  a  ladder  and  I  was  ushered  into  a 
small  room  filled  with  new  furniture,  in  the  midst  of  which  four 
or  five  bashful  Chinese  girls,  all  arrayed  in  their  Sunday  panta- 
loons, were  standing. 

I  did  not  see  the  bride  at  once.  She  was  in  a  corner,  standing 
like  a  statue,  her  face  hardly  visible  under  the  pendant  ornaments 
of  the  marriage  head-piece.  Her  young  husband  explained  my 
presence  and  she  crossed  herself  as  she  expressed  her  thanks  for 
the  good  wishes  offered  and  for  the  requested  blessing.  May  this 
young  couple  lead  a  long  and  useful  life! 

Religious  Congregations  in  the  City. 

The  Route  Pere  Robert  runs  into  the  Avenue  Joffre  and  here, 
not  far  from  the  Paris  Seminary  Procure,  is  that  of  the  Scheut 
Fathers,  whose  centre  is  at  Brussels  in  Belgium. 

The  Scheut  Fathers  have  six  missions  in  China  under  the 
direction  of  five  bishops,  assisted  by  one  hundred  and  seventy 
European  and  forty-five  native  priests.  They  have  about 
one  hundred  and  five  thousand  Christians,  many  in  scattered 
districts.  The  Society  is  ably  represented  at  the  Shanghai 
Procure  by  Father  Hoogers  and  his  assistant.  Father  Verhaeghe. 
Father  Hoogers  is  a  Hollander  and  has  a  brother  also  on  the 
Chinese  mission.  Both  Procurators  were  keenly  interested  in 
MaryknoU  and  I  met  them  several  times  while  in  Shanghai. 

I  arrived  at  St.  Joseph's  toward  eleven  o'clock  that  morning 
and  was  soon  with  Bishop  Paris,  who  gave  me  a  gracious  wel- 
come. Evidently  he  had  not  followed  our  work  as  closely  as 
other  bishops  and  his  knowledge  of  American  Catholic  life,  even 
so  far  as  it  affects  his  own  brethren,  is  limited.  This  is  due 
doubtless  to  his  absorption  by  the  care  of  his  immense  vicariate 
and  its  many  works.    I  stayed  with  Bishop  Paris  about  an  hour. 

That  afternoon,  through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  C —  who  supplied 
an  automobile  and  of  Father  Sallou  who  served  as  guide,  I  was 
enabled  to  see  several  institutions,  including  the  Marianist 
Brothers'  College,  the  General  Hospital  under  the  direction  of 

153 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Mary,  and  one  of  the  two  large 
schools  conducted  by  the  Helpers  of  the  Holy  Souls.  At  the 
college  I  found  two  alert  Irish  Brothers,  and  among  the  "Helpers" 
were  two  American  nuns,  one  from  Canada,  the  other  from  the 
United  States. 

Wednesday  morning  I  visited  again  St.  Mary's  Hospital  and 
saw  Sister  Xavier  O'Sullivan,  whom  I  had  twice  missed  and 
whom  I  now  accused  of  having  had  an  attack  of  sleeping  sickness. 
Sister  O'Sullivan  is  in  reality  one  of  those  women  whom  it  is 
hard  to  imagine  asleep.  She  is  a  "live  wire"  and  can  say  in  a 
short  time  not  only  much  but  much  that  is  good.  She  knew 
Maryknoll  as  if  she  had  lived  there  and  she  gave  advice  like  the 
"big  sister"  that  she  is. 

Returning  to  the  house,  I  found  a  reporter  from  one  of  the 
Shanghai  dailies,  who  wanted  to  know  the  why  and  wherefore 
of  my  visit  to  the  Far  East.  He  was  a  young  American,  not 
long  away  from  his  Chicago  home  and  not  yet  Far-Easternized. 
He  told  me  that  Americans  are  becoming  very  numerous  in 
Shanghai  and  that  in  the  extraordinary  development  of  the 
city  they  are  growing  daily  a  strong  influence. 

We  had  tififin  that  day  with  the  Scheut  Fathers  and  towards 
the  end  of  the  afternoon  I  took  the  steamer  Hsin  Peking  for 
Ningpo. 


154 


THE   JESUIT   CHURCH   AT   SICAWEI 

"The  interior  is  really  quite  fine,  generous  enough,  too,  to  hold  a  thousand  persons." 

(p.  149) 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XI 

A  DIP   INTO  THE   INTERIOR 

HERE  was  only  one  other  white  passenger  on  the 
boat  to  Ningpo,  a  governess  returning  to  her 
employers,  and  as  she  vanished  after  the  evening 
meal  I  had  the  best  part  of  the  steamer  to  myself. 
On  the  deck  below  the  poor  Chinese  were 
stretched  in  groups  along  the  cold  hatches  and 
were  already  asleep,  while  I  was  walking  on  a  red 
carpet  among  flower-pots  and  able  to  enter  at  any  moment  a 
well-appointed  cabin  with  its  comfortable  bed.  A  few  cock- 
roaches appeared  to  say  good-night  and  to  wish  pleasant  dreams 
but  they  kept  at  a  respectful  distance  and  I  slept  well  until 
towards  five  o'clock,  at  which  hour  we  were  due  in  Ningpo. 

It  was  dark  when  I  left  my  cabin  and  the  boat  was  nearing 
the  dock.  Already  a  host  of  coolies  had  clambered  aboard 
to  get  their  few  ^apggwe^  from  travelers  as  miserable  as  themselves. 
The  noise  and  confusion  were  mounting  every  moment,  when 
suddenly  I  espied  on  the  dock  a  small  figure  in  black  cassock  and 
broad-brimmed  hat,  with  whiskers  such  as  no  Chinaman  ever 
could  or  ever  will  raise.  There  was  a  mutual  recognition  and  the 
next  moment  the  agile  little  priest,  Father  Bui.h,  Procurator  at 
Ningpo,  was  up  the  gangplank  with  one  of  his  boys.  A  few  mo- 
ments later  we  were  walking  along  the  wharves  o.'  this  populous 
fishing  city  to  the  Cathedral,  where  Masses  were  already  in 
progress  and  where  an  altar  was  prepared  for  the  visitor. 

At  breakfast  I  met  Bishop  Reynaud,  with  whom  I  had  been 
in  correspondence  for  many  years  and  who  gave  a  kindly  wel- 
come. Bishop  Reynaud  has  seen  long  years  of  service  here  and 
is  much  esteemed.  He  is  a  man  of  fine  physique  and,  like  all  the 
bishops  I  have  met  in  the  Far  East,  an  elder  brother  to  his 
priests.  My  program  was  yet  uncertain,  because  I  knew  neither 
distances  nor  steamboat  schedules.  I  should  return,  however, 
to  Shanghai  for  Thursday  of  the  next  week.  In  the  meantime 
I  wished  to  see  Sister  Xavier  in  Chusan  and  Father  Eraser  in 
Taichowfu,  and  both  of  these  places  figured  about  as  much  in 
my  geography  at  the  time  as  they  do  in  yours,  dear  reader,  now. 

155 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

We  finally  settled  that  I  should  stay  that  day  in  Ningpo, 
and  leave  for  the  other  places  on  Friday,  the  day  following.  I  was 
in  the  hands  of  friends  and  submitted  gladly. 

With  an  Irishman  at  Ningpo. 

One  of  the  first  priests  presented  at  Ningpo  was  the  Reverend 
Michael  MacKiernan,  a  rosy-faced,  golden-bearded,  gentle 
bit-of-an-Irishman  who  is  a  curate  over  in  the  Chinese  city 
as  distinguished  from  the  foreign  establishments  along  th . 
wharves.  He  is  one  of  two  Irish  Lazarist  Fathers  in  the  vicariate 
and  I  had  been  hoping  to  meet  both,  not  always  an  easy  matter 
in  this  land  of  great  distances  and  difficult  communications. 

Father  Buch  and  Father  MacKiernan  took  me  that  morning 
across  the  bridge  of  boats  into  a  maze  of  narrow  alleys  and  so- 
called  streets.  They  were  dark  and  wet,  but  occasionally  we 
came  into  cleaner  and  wider  thoroughfares,  and  one  section 
that  rejoiced  in  gold-trimmed  stores  and  sumptuous  hangings 
was  decidedly  attractive.  We  finally  turned  into  the  Catholic 
compound  which,  with  its  church,  a  large  house,  and  the  various 
institutions  under  the  Sisters  of  Charity,  gave  us  again  a  glimpse 
of  God's  sunlight  and  the  sense  of  space  with  fresh  air.  The 
pastor  was  at  home,  limping  about  on  a  game  leg,  but  he  accom- 
panied us  everywhere  with  the  same  spirit  of  hospitality  that  has 
characterized  the  Lazarist  Fathers  all  along  the  line. 

An  Impressive  Grouping. 

That  afternoon  I  visited  a  group  of  buildings,  all  com- 
paratively new,  that  lie  conveniently  just  on  the  outskirts  of 
Ningpo  and  yet  near  the  water.  Here  are  the  Seminary  and  a 
College  for  boys,  together  with  the  several  excellent  institutions 
under  the  care  of  Sisters  of  Charity;  also  a  novitiate  for  Chinese 
nuns.    They  form  an  imposing  group  and  indicate  much  activity. 

Father  Defebvre  and  his  assistants  are  justly  proud  of  the 
young  College  and  Seminary,  already  well  started,  and  the  only 
regret  that  I  had  in  looking  into  these  schools  was  the  lack  of 
English-speaking  professors  to  enable  Ningpo  youths  to  get  hold 
of  a  language  that  for  some  years  to  come,  at  least,  will  be  a 
desirable  asset  for  any  Chinese  student.  Ningpo,  the  reader 
may  be  assured,  does  not  lack  English  in  the  Protestant  schools. 

156 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


The  Sisters  of  Charity  here  have  the  oldest  house  in  China. 
It  was  established  in  1853  and  ten  thousand  little  ones,  received 
since  then  at  its  doors,  are  now  with  God  for  eternity.  The 
sister  of  the  martyr,  Blessed  Gabriel  Perboyre,  was  stationed 
here  for  some  years,  and  a  Chinese  nun  whom  I  met  had  barely 
escaped  martyrdom,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  had  nearly  received 
the  martyr's  crown,  in  1905.  She  was  sent  out  of  danger  with 
a  soldier's  cap  on  her  head. 

The  orphanage  with  its  varied  works  was  not  unlike  those 
which  I  have  seen  in  many  places.  Sister  Gilbert  who  is  in 
charge  here  is  well  known  to  French  and  English  readers  of 
mission  appeals.  She  is  a  tireless  worker  and  has  her  hands 
full,  with  babes  and  growing  children  looking  to  her  for  suste- 
nance. The  abandoned  waifs  are  left  here  daily  and  three- 
quarters  of  them  die — some  within  a  few  hours  after  arrival. 
Among  those  who  survive  are  several  blind,  who  remain  as  a 
rule  during  their  lifetime.  One  scene  that  left  its  impress  on  my 
memory  was  a  row  of  these  little  blind  orphans  making  tape. 
Expressionless,  they  were  facing  a  wall  and  their  hands  moved 
slowly  with  mechanical  precision.  As  we  left  the  baby  ward  I 
noticed  a  Chinese  nurse  swinging  four  cradles  of  delicate  infants 
with  one  move  of  the  hand.    The  cradles  were  hung  from  a  beam. 

Always  a  cheery  scene,  however,  is  the  visit  to  the  little 
ones  who  have  learned  to  talk  and  are  thoroughly  alive.  They 
love  the  priest  and  welcome  his  visit,  being  quite  as  much  at 
home  with  him  as  with  the  Sisters.  "Zo-Zo,"  they  call  out,  "Zo- 
Zo — sit  down,  sit  down — stay  and  play  with  us."  Then  when 
leaving  one  always  hears  them  say  until  out  of  ear-shot,  "Go 
away  slowly — come  back  quickly."  Poor  little  ones!  Yet  hov/ 
fortunate  to  have  fallen  into  merciful  hands! 

It  was  dark  when  I  set  out  to  return  to  the  Bishop's  residence, 
and  as  the  road  was  directly  along  the  harbor  front  I  begged  the 
priests  not  to  give  me  a  companion.  They  insisted,  however, 
and  it  was  well  for  me,  because  a  few  hundred  feet  from  the 
Cathedral  we  were  held  up  by  soldiers  who  turned  out  to  be 
r».bels.  They  would  not  listen  to  argument,  but  we  soon  dis- 
covered that  our  objective  could  be  reached  by  a  rear  entrance, 
and  following  my  companion,  a  Chinese  Brother,  we  dashed  into 

157 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

a  series  of  alleys,  all  dark,  until  we  bumped  against  a  burly 
white  man  who  proved  to  be  a  North-of-Ireland  policeman. 
He  let  us  by  and  after  stumbling  through  more  dark  alleys  we 
reached  a  grim  doorway  that  opened  at  the  Brother's  touch 
into  the  walled  compound  of  the  Cathedral.  Later  we  learned 
that  the  highway  had  been  barricaded  and  put  under  guard  so 
that  the  "poor"  soldiers  could  at  leisure  take  from  a  bank 
ten  thousand  dollars  that  had  been  resting  quietly  in  its  vaults. 

Some  Unusual  Experiences. 

The  next  morning,  with  Father  Buch  as  an  unexpected 
but  welcome  guide,  I  set  out  for  the  Chusan-Taichowfu  trip, 
which  proved  to  be  a  real  dip  into  the  interior. 

The  wharf  was  directly  in  front  of  the  Bishop's  residence, 
and  as  the  time  for  departure  was  supposed  to  be  eight  a.  m. 
I  began  to  feel  nervous  when  the  hands  of  my  watch  reached 
seven-fifty-five  and  the  whistles  started  blowing.  Father  Buch 
reassured  me,  however,  saying  that  he  was  going  to  accompany 
me  on  this  little  excursion  (it  took  almost  a  week)  and  that  the 
boat  would  not  sail  without  us  because  the  wharf  belonged  to 
the  Mission  and  the  captain  was  expecting  us. 

In  the  meantime  Father  Buch,  who  is  as  lively  as  a  mosquito, 
was  jumping  and  so  were  several  servants.  One  brought  up  a 
hamper  that  steamed  as  if  it  were  the  smoke-stack  of  the  boat 
itself,  another  appeared  with  rolls  of  bedding,  and  a  third  came 
along  at  the  last  moment  with  a  bamboo  pole,  such  as  coolies 
use  everywhere  in  carrying  all  kinds  of  goods,  from  babies  and 
hens  to  bags  of  rice  and  travelers'  kits. 

Then  the  Bishop  turned  up  with  some  of  the  priests,  and 
all  sauntered  out  to  the  steamer,  a  small  affair  about  the  size 
of  a  tug  boat,  with  an  upper  deck.  It  was  loaded  with  chattering, 
screaming  Chinese,  and  hundreds  were  passing  or  loitering  on 
the  little  street  across  which  we  had  to  pass  to  get  to  it. 

Our  carrier,  with  bedding  and  hamper  balancing  one  another 
from  the  carrying  pole  on  his  shoulders,  made  his  way  down  the 
gangplank  and  formed  an  opening  for  us.  How  he  got  through, 
up  the  ladder  stairway  and  down  to  our  cabin,  is  still  a  mystery 
to  me.    We  had  said  good-bye  to  the  Bishop  and  it  was  well, 

158 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

because  the  deck  was  too  crowded  to  get  back  to  the  other  side 
and  wave  adieus.    The  boat  started  an  hour  later. 

In  the  meantime  I  looked  around  the  cabin  and  could  only 
think  of  a  solitary  confinement  cell.  This  one  was  of  wood, 
however,  and  the  door  had  no  iron  bars.  In  fact,  the  lock  was 
broken  and  whenever  we  left  the  place,  as  we  managed  to  do 
later,  we  had  to  call  a  "boy"  and  have  him  use  his  wits  to  protect 
our  belongings.  There  were  three  wide  shelves,  two  set  low  at 
right  angles  to  each  other  and  a  third  above  one  of  the  pair. 
This  combination  gave  a  dining-room  as  well  as  a  chamber  for 
extended  voyages. 

We  had  to  hug  the  cabin  for  a  while,  so  we  found  a  couple 
of  camp  stools  on  which  we  sat  while  yellow  faces  crowded 
about  the  window  and  open  doorway  to  size  us  up.  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  it  would  not  be  a  long  sentence,  and  after  some 
difficulty  we  located  and  called  the  "boy,"  who  hammered  down 
the  "lid,"  stood  guard  and  enabled  us  to  elbow  our  way  through 
the  yellow  line  to  the  bow  of  the  boat. 

During  this  operation  I  ran  into  a  couple  of  young  men — 
Standard  Oil  employees  they  proved  to  be — and  murmured  to 
one,  "I  guess  we  are  up  against  it."  That  magic  sentence 
brought  a  gleam  of  joy  into  the  youth's  countenance  and  he 
could  not  get  around  too  soon  to  ask  me  about  little  old  New 
York  and  other  sections  of  the  States,  memories  of  which 
evidently  rested  warmly  in  his  heart.  He  had  been  away  from 
home  only  a  year  and  the  "come  back"  call  was  working  rather 
hard  about  the  time  I  met  him. 

There  were  three  or  four  chairs  on  that  boat  and  we  few  white 
men  seemed  to  be  entitled  to  them,  although  a  shabby-looking 
bonze  remained  attached  to  one  for  a  while.  We  sat  and  stood 
alternately,  trying  to  dodge  the  wind  when  it  was  cold — (we  are 
in  December).  At  noon  we  managed  to  get  back  to  the  cabin-de- 
luxe, where  we  picnicked  from  the  once  steaming  hamper.  We 
fared  well  and  the  Chinese  in  the  window  and  at  the  doorway 
seemed  to  enjoy  watching  us  eat. 

When  a  Chinaman  meets  you  in  this  country  his  first  question 
is,  "Have  you  eaten?"  If  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  follows 
tliis  up  by  another,  which  might  be  translated,   "Have  you 

159 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

eaten  full  up?"  I  felt  extremely  selfish  as  I  munched  in  front 
of  these  half-starved  Celestials,  but  my  companion  assured  me 
that  they  enjoyed  watching  us  manipulate  food  almost  as  much 
as  if  they  themselves  were  eating. 

An  English  Sister  at  Chusan. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  reached  Ting-hai,  on  the  island 
of  Chusan.  It  has  a  pretty  harbor  and  the  walled  town  looks 
attractive  with  its  background  of  hills.  Like  crows  flying  to 
a  carcass,  numberless  sampans  shot  out  to  take  ofif  passengers 
and  their  baggage.  This  operation  is  quite  exciting,  because  it  is 
often  accompanied  by  narrow  escapes  and  always  with  shouting 
from  hundreds  of  throats. 

But  I  was  more  interested  in  the  town  itself.  On  a  hill 
above  the  water-line  of  houses  was  a  monastic-looking  building, 
which  if  seen  in  Spain  would  require  hardly  a  guess.  But  this 
was  no  monastery,  with  Jesus  Christ  as  its  constant  guest. 
It  was  the  home  of  bonzes — pagan  priests — and  of  hideous  idols 
in  wood  and  stone,  a  pagoda — one  of  thousands  that  greet  the 
traveler  at  every  turn  in  this  unchristianized  land.  As  we 
looked  at  it  Father  Buch  told  me  of  a  similar  establishment  on 
an  island  off  the  coast  of  Chusan  some  miles  to  the  east,  where 
two  thousand  bonzes  live,  adoring  daily  the  gods  that  are  made 
by  hands. 

It  was  time  to  land,  and  in  the  crowd  at  the  dock  we  finally 
spotted  a  servant  sent  from  the  Mission  to  carry  the  precious 
contents  away  from  our  cabin.  There  are  no  rickshaws  in 
Chusan,  which  is  not  adapted  to  such  means  of  locomotion. 
We  could  be  carried  in  chairs  but  we  decided  to  stretch  our  legs, 
so  we  walked  through  the  city,  across  the  rice-fields,  to  the 
church,  where  Father  Proccacci,  who  has  lately  celebrated  his 
fortieth  year  here,  was  awaiting  us.  An  auxiliary-Brother 
from  Haimen  was  with  him.  This  Brother  also  has  been  in 
China  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  and  speaks  Chinese,  I  am 
told,  so  as  to  deceive  even  the  Celestials. 

I  had  made  the  journey  to  Chusan,  however,  that  I  might 
have  the  privilege  of  meeting  Sister  Xavier,  a  Sister  of  Charity 
with  whom   I   had  been  in  correspondence  for  more  than  a 

160 


A    MISSION   ON  THE   ISLAND   OF   CHUSAN 

mmmmamammatm 


MOTHERED   BY   THE   WHITE   CORNEITES 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

dozen  years  and  whose  work  for  God  I  had  followed  from  a 
distance.  She  was  across  the  street,  and  Father  Buch  soon 
took  me  over.  We  recognized  each  other  readily  enough,  and 
after  a  talk  that  revealed  the  depth  of  this  noble  woman's 
interest  in  Maryknoll  I  accompanied  her  through  the  several 
rooms  which,  to  the  little  ones  whom  she  mothers,  to  the 
helpless,  the  deaf  mutes,  the  aged,  the  blind,  and  even  the  idiots, 
is  home.  Home  it  is  for  them  and  home  for  her,  who,  for  the 
love  of  God  and  for  the  unloved  of  men  in  a  foreign  land,  gave 
up  much  that  this  world  considers  worth  having. 

As  we  arrived  at  the  building  I  noticed  a  stagnant  canal, 
along  which  was  stretched  a  row  of  Chinese  .houses,  and  I 
remarked  that  it  must  be  an  unhealthy  spot.  Sister  Xavier 
then  told  me  how,  five  years  before,  cholera  had  broken  out  and 
she  knew  that  it  had  reached  her  precious  charges  through 
these  huts  and  others  then  even  nearer.  "I  stood  it,"  she  said 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "until  thirty  of  the  children  caught  the 
dreadful  malady  and  died  the  next  day.  Then  we  bundled 
all  that  were  left  off  to  the  hillside.  They  slept  anywhere  and 
everywhere  in  the  open  until  the  plague  was  over." 

Since  then  Sister  Xavier  has  been  trying  to  buy  and  burn 
these  houses  and  to  fill  the  canal.  So  far,  however,  she  has  been 
able  to  secure  only  a  few  with  what  money  she  could  save.  The 
remainder  will  cost  two  thousand  dollars,  a  hopelessly  large 
sum  for  Chusan.  She  has  faith,  however,  that  little  by  little 
the  means  will  come.  The  cholera  recurs  about  every  six  years 
and  Sister  Xavier  is  pleading  hard  with  St.  Joseph. 

Uncertainties  of  Travel. 

Our  beds  were  dumped  onto  Father  Proccacci's  straw-mat- 
tings that  night  and  we  slept  well.  My  Mass  was  at  five-thirty 
in  the  convent,  and  the  little  ones  were  chanting  their  prayers 
as  I  offered  it  for  Sister  Xavier  and  her  many  intentions. 

We  planned  to  leave  that  day  for  Taichowfu,  by  way  of 
Haimen,  to  see  Father  Fraser,  but  v.^e  were  in  a  land  of  un- 
certainties. Telegraph  communications  had  been  cut  off  at 
Ningpo  by  the  rebel  soldiers,  and  at  Chusan  there  is  no  such 
institution  as  a  telegraph  ofifice.     Boats  run  at  "any  old  time" 

161 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  nobody  even  dares  to  guess  the  hour  of  departure  or  arrival. 
The  whistle  blows,  and  if  the  passenger  lives  near  enough  he 
can  make  the  boat.  If  not,  he  should  get  down  to  the  waterside, 
find  some  place  to  camp,  or  be  content  to  stay  on  his  feet  perhaps 
for  hours. 

It  was  Saturday  and  we  were  told  that  a  boat  for  Haimen 
might  leave  at  two  p.  m.  Beds  and  bags  went  on  to  a  pair  of 
Chinese  shoulders,  and  we  hastened  down  through  the  tortuous 
alleys  as  we  heard  a  whistle  shrieking. 

All  in  vain.  It  was  a  boat  departing  for  Ningpo  and  the 
Haimen  craft  was  not  in  sight.  Fortunately,  the  row  of  shops 
that  face  the  wharves  at  Tinghai  belongs  to  the  Mission  and  we 
established  a  camp  in  one  that  looked  fairly  respectable,  a 
grain  store. 

Leaving  the  impedimenta  in  charge  of  the  domestic,  we  went 
up  the  hill  to  the  pagoda,  to  inspect  in  detail  its  awful  idols 
and  its  altars.  There  were  no  worshippers  at  the  time  but  many 
joss  sticks  were  burning  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  Afterwards 
we  sat  on  the  parapet,  looking  out  over  the  city  and  the  bay, 
straining  our  eyes  for  that  steamer  until  the  cold  stone  on  which 
we  were  sitting  communicated  its  temper  to  our  members. 

We  went  down  again  to  the  grain  store,  gave  a  silent  ex- 
hibition to  a  score  of  idle  Chinese,  retired  into  a  back  room  six 
feet  by  four  and  said  Matins  and  Lauds  for  the  next  day.  We 
were  served  occasionally  with  the  never-failing  cup  of  tea,  stroll- 
ed, sat,  sat  and  strolled,  until  six  o'clock.  Then  we  reckoned 
that  if  the  boat  should  come  and  not  leave  before  eight  o'clock  we 
could  not  arrive  at  Haimen  until  Sunday  noon — too  late  to  say 
Mass.  So  we  gave  up  the  Haimen  trip,  picked  up  our  beds, 
and  walked  back  to  Father  Proccacci,  to  drain  his  larder  and 
to  fill  his  wicker  bedsteads  another  night. 

This  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  say  Mass  again  next  morning 
in  the  Sisters'  chapel. 

Shortly  after  breakfast  the  procession  started  anew  and  at 

the  wharves  we  had  an  embarrassment  of  riches.    There  were 

^a  couple  of  boats  going  to  Ningpo  and  one  to  Haimen.    Now  we 

had  fully  decided  that  we  could  not  make  Haimen  so  as  to  get 

me  back  to  Shanghai  for  the  date  on  which  I  promised  to  appear, 

162 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

if  needed — Thursday  night.  But  there  was  the  Httle  Haimen 
boat  dancing  on  the  water  and  ready  to  go.  Father  Fraser  would 
be  much  disappointed,  Sister  Xavier,  too,  and  I,  myself.  We 
walked  over  to  the  Haimen  boat's  wharf  and  I  found  a  white 
family  on  board — a  missionary  doctor  who  belonged  to  Taichow- 
fu.  When  it  was  proved  to  me  that  I  had  ninety-nine  chances 
out  of  a  hundred  to  get  through  on  schedule  time  we  landed  the 
beds  and  bags  in  what  looked  like  an  empty  pantry  and  settled 
down — for  a  short  wait  of  one  hour. 

Two  coffins  were  out  on  the  dock  and  between  the  two  was 
a  woman,  leaning  over  the  rail  as  if  she  were  ill  and  weeping 
aloud.  Nobody  seemed  to  notice  her,  and  occasionally  she 
straightened  up,  looked  towards  the  pagoda,  talked  with  a  few 
friends,  and  then  resumed  her  posture  and  her  wailing.  When 
the  body  was  carried  off  the  dock  she  followed  it,  supported  by 
two  other  women,  to  a  corner  of  the  thoroughfare  under  the 
hill  of  the  pagpda,  where  a  young  bonze  dressed  in  his  priestly 
robes  was  standing  ready  to  begin  the  funeral  service. 

Father  Buch  and  I  sauntered  over  to  watch  the  scene,  which 
did  not  interest  to  any  considerable  extent  the  passers-by. 
Two  boys  were  assisting  the  bonze  and  their  principal  occupation 
seemed  to  consist  in  making  a  noise  with  instruments.  A  pailful 
of  gilt  paper  had  to  be  burned  and  tables  of  food  were  already 
set  for  the  mourners  and  for  the  corpse.  As  soon  as  the  bonze 
began  his  mumblings  the  women  set  to  weeping,  this  time 
together,  tears  falling  copiously.  The  bonze  was  ascetic  in 
appearance  and  gave  his  signals  with  precision.  At  the  last 
signal  the  women  stopped  weeping,  the  corpse  was  carried  off 
and  the  bonze,  taking  off  his  robes,  folded  them  carefully  and 
went  his  way. 

The  whistle  was  now  blowing  on  our  steamer  for  the  fourth 
and  next  to  the  last  time,  so  we  went  on  board  and  managed 
to  find  a  wooden  horse,  about  the  only  kind  of  seat  available. 
Soon  afterwards  we  were  moving — and  I  confess  to  a  feeling 
of  sadness  as  I  looked  over  towards  the  Mission  and  contrasted 
Sister  Xavier  and  her  needs  with  others  and  their  affluence. 
May  God  forgive  those  who  do  not  realize  that  they  are  stewards 
rather  than  masters! 

163 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Through  the  Chiisan  Archipelago. 

We  lunched  from  the  hamper  at  noon  and  resumed  our  place 
a  little  late.  I  started  to  say  my  breviary  sitting  on  the  wooden 
horse,  and  soon  found  myself  surrounded  by  at  least  a  dozen 
curious  Chinese.  I  continued  for  about  ten  minutes,  when  the 
humor  of  the  situation  dawned  on  me  rather  strongly  and  looking 
up  at  the  crowd  I  gave  a  long  wink  and  smiled.  They  were 
embarrassed  for  a  moment  but  they  came  back  at  me  with 
questions,  to  which  I  could  only  answer  by  an  "Aw- Aw," 
which,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  means  "All  right." 

Fortunately  Father  Buch  came  along  just  then  and  met  the 
onslaught.  Where  were  we  going?  Where  did  we  come  from? 
Where  were  our  wives?  Why  did  the  other  man  on  the  boat 
have  a  family  with  him?  And  so  forth. 

By  this  time  the  "other  man,"  the  "Doctor,"  came  up, 
smiled  sweetly  on  the  crowd  that  had  now  swollen  to  a  score, 
and  began  to  talk  at  them  in  Chinese  with  cadences  that  fell 
on  my  ear  like  a  sermon-song  and  gestures  that  followed  his 
eyes  heavenwards.  We  had  gathered  the  auditors  and  a  Prot- 
estant preacher  had  taken  it  into  his  head,  unbidden,  to  address 
them.  It  was  somewhat  cool.  Little  Father  Buch  looked  at  me 
in  astonishment.  He  had  not  met  the  type  before,  and  slipping 
off  the  wooden  horse  which  he  had  been  sharing  with  me,  he  went 
away  rather  disgusted.  I  stayed  and  resumed  my  breviary,  while 
my  Scotch  friend — or  was  he  English? — talked,  in  several  senses 
of  the  word,  over  my  head.  Occasionally  a  question  was  thrown 
at  him,  which  added  some  life  to  the  conference,  but  gradually 
the  Chinese  left  the  circle  and  after  twenty  minutes  the  preacher 
suddenly  stopped  and  remarked  that  I  was  reading. 

I  assured  him  that  such  was  the  case,  that  I  could  not 
understand  a  word  he  was  saying,  that  I  presumed  he  was  giving 
a  sermon,  and  that  I  thought  he  made  a  mistake  in  talking  too 
long.  He  smiled  blandly  and  told  me  that  this  was  one  of  his 
failings. 

About  five  o'clock  we  came  to  Shi-pu,  an  outlying  Mission 
in  an  attractive  setting  with  no  resident  priest.  We  were  to  be 
there  two  hours,  and  leaving  the  boat  Father  Buch  brought  me 
to  the  little  chapel  perched  above  the  waters.    As  we  entered  the 

164 


'/  sturled  to  say  »iy  breviary,  sitting  on  the  uvoden  horse, 

and  soon  found  myself  surrounded  by  at  least 

a  dozen  curious  Chinese.^'     {p.  164.) 


"  1  he  river  trip  to  Taiclioufu  is  quite  attractive  and  the  run  seemed  short."     (p.  167.) 
THROUGH  THE   CHUSAN  ARCHIPELAGO 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 


Mission  gate  the  catechist's  house  and  a  well-kept  courtyard 
opened  up  to  us,  but  I  could  see  no  church.  The  catechist 
himself  was  soon  in  evidence,  an  intelligent  looking  man  whose 
visiting  card  reads- 

iHr.  ^Su  ILiariQ, 

Catfjolic,  ^ijipu 

I  soon  discovered  that  the  chapel  and  the  missioner's  room 
occupied  the  second  floor.  The  chapel  was  neat  and  the  room 
spacious  enough  and,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  well-aired,  because 
I  could  see  twilight  between  the  boards  that  closed  it  in  on  the 
side  facing  the  sea. 

The  catechist  insisted  that  we  should  take  our  evening  meal 
with  him.  He  would  hold  the  boat  and  get  us  aboard  safely; 
and  the  experience  suited  me  perfectly,  so  we  stayed  for  a  meal 
that  would  have  sent  a  Chinaman  away  happy  for  a  week. 
Where  the  goods  came  from,  and  what  they  were,  I  cannot 
say.  We  started  with  cakes,  a  speciality  of  Shi-pu,  and  then 
after  I  had  been  presented  with  a  pair  of  chopsticks  and  a  small 
bowl  the  first  act  opened.  Each  of  us  helped  himself  from  the 
central  dish  and  I  tried  hard  to  fish  always  in  new  grounds. 
Fortunately  the  central  dish — whatever  it  contained — was 
changed  several  times. 

There  is  an  end,  however,  even  to  a  Chinese  dinner,  and 
when  we  finished  this  one  I  felt  that  I  had  not  yet  eaten.  It  was 
time  to  go  to  the  steamer  as  two  whistles  had  already  blown. 
By  a  lantern  light  we  managed  to  get  down  flights  of  stone  steps, 
and  to  stumble  without  a  fall  over  the  rough-paved  alleys,  until 
we  landed  safely  in  the  boat  that  was  to  be  our  hotel  for  the  night. 

The  "pantry"  had  been  transformed  into  a  cabin.  There 
were  our  beds  spread  out  on  the  shelves,  and  a  dim  electric 
light,  with  an  oil  lamp  to  supplement  it,  was  burning  a  welcome. 
The  "boy"  came  along  to  see  how  we  were,  and  presented  each 
of  us  with  a  steaming-hot  rag  to  sweep  refreshingly  over  our 
tired  brows.  I  looked  at  the  rag,  shook  my  head,  and  walked 
out  for  an  inspection  before  turning  in. 

Men,  women,  and  children  were  stretched  sleeping  on  the 
deck  in  the  December  night  air.     Some  late  arrivals  were  still 

165 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

shouting  with  the  excitement  of  finding  enough  space  to  join  the 
sleepers,  and  a  few  hens  were  cackling  in  baskets.  I  looked  at 
our  cabin  and  at  those  of  our  neighbors.  We  were  among  the 
few  privileged  ones  and  were  the  only  two  white  people  on  the 
boat. 

The  cabin  next  to  ours  contained  three  smoking  Chinamen, 
who  had  no  idea  of  sleeping  that  night.  Our  blind  opened 
from  the  outside  and  there  was  no  air-hole  in  the  door.  So  we 
placed  our  valuables  under  our  heads,  opened  the  window, 
nestled  down  into  the  big  Chinese  comfortable  that  spells  a 
really  good  bed,  and  I  slept  as  if  on  my  little  porch  at  Maryknoll. 

Receptions. 

Shortly  after  midnight  we  bumped  into  the  wharf  at  Haimen 
and  the  air  was  full  of  noise,  but  we  turned  over  and  forgot  it 
until  four  a.  m.,  when  we  rose  and  dressed.  It  was  dark  and 
everybody  on  board  seemed  to  have  died.  Even  the  cabin  "boy" 
who  promised  to  be  on  hand  to  help  us  was  not  in  sight.  Father 
Buch,  however,  grappled  the  beds  and  tied  them  up  likeaveteran. 
Then  he  went  out  on  the  wharf  for  a  coolie,  and  we  were  soon 
on  our  way  through  what  seemed  to  be  a  deserted  town.  Every 
shop  was  closed  tight  and  barred.  Doubtless,  however,  there 
were  chinks  in  the  shutters. 

We  pushed  on  over  excellent  pavements,  which  Father  Buch 
told  me  had  been  laid  under  the  supervision  of  the  Mission, 
and  after  a  ten-minute  walk  we  reached  two  long  walls,  that 
marked  respectively,  on  either  side  of  the  street,  the  church  with 
its  residence  and  schools  and  the  convent  with  its  varied  works. 

I  had  been  wondering  if,  after  our  journey,  I  should  miss 
Father  Eraser,  whose  Mission  was  yet  some  hours  away,  but 
my  fears  were  set  at  rest  by  the  porter  who  told  us  that  Father 
Eraser  had  come  to  Haimen  in  the  hope  of  meeting  us  and  was 
in  the  house. 

We  entered  the  compound — the  brightest  and  prettiest 
mission-settlement  that  I  had  yet  seen,  neat,  well-arranged, 
with  good  taste  and  care  evident  at  every  turn.  Father  Lepers, 
the  Pro-Vicar  of  the  vicariate,  and  Father  Le  Pech  were  soon  on 
hand  to  greet  us  and  a  salutation  in  English  from  the  top  of  the 

166 


X5 


O    S 


<    5 


M  -Si 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

stairway  acted  as  a  real  tonic  even  at  that  early  hour — it  was  not 
yet  five  o'clock. 

Masses  over,  we  made  the  usual  inspection  of  both  establish- 
ments and  I  was  particularly  impressed,  as  I  have  been  elsewhere, 
with  the  bright  happy  disposition  of  the  native  Sisters.  The 
old  ladies,  too,  were  an  interested  lot.  They  gathered  about  and 
asked  all  kinds  of  questions  and  as  we  sat  before  them  for  the 
examination  I  did  not  know  whether  I  felt  like  some  famous 
explorer  or  a  dime-museum  freak.  A  feature  at  Haimen  is  the 
stitching  industry.  Boys  of  the  Mission  are  trained  to  use 
American  machines  that  turn  out  stockings  for  a  ready  market. 

We  were  due  to  leave  at  nine  o'clock  for  Taichowfu  and  had 
to  cut  short  that  first  visit  to  Haimen. 

It  was  not  too  early,  though,  for  a  little  surprise,  and  as  we 
came  out  from  the  house  with  the  now  indispensable  cargo  of 
baggage  we  were  met  by  a  line-up  of  boys  and  a  sound  of  trum- 
pets. The  trumpeters  blew  lustily  and  the  silent  soldiers  straight- 
ened up  magnificently.  I  cleared  my  throat  like  a  bishop  I 
used  to  know,  bit  my  lip,  and  passed  down  between  the  lines. 

By  this  time  any  late  sleepers  were  aroused,  so  that  when 
we  reached  the  city  a  few  hundred  feet  away  its  streets  were 
swarming  with  life.  We  ran  into  a  counter  attraction — a  long 
and  noisy  procession  on  its  way  to  escort  some  unblushing 
yellow  bride  to  her  future  home,  and  we  arrived  at  the  boat 
just  in  time  for  the  first  of  six  whistles,  the  last  sounding  an 
hour  later. 

The  "Doctor"  was  already  on  board  with  his  wife  and 
family.  I  had  met  the  children,  and  was  now  presented  to  the 
wife,  but  the  atmosphere  became  suddenly  cold  and  I  sought 
shelter  with  Fathers  Buch  and  Fraser  in  the  pantry,  where  our 
things  had  been  left  for  security. 

A  Day  at  Taichowfu. 

The  river  trip  to  Taichowfu  is  quite  attractive  and  the 
run — some  three  or  four  hours — seemed  short. 

Father  Fraser's  Mission  was  well-represented  by  a  group 
of  bright  youngsters,  who  relieved  us  of  every  possible  encum- 
brance except  necessary  clothing  and  money,  escorting  us  with 

167 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

evident  satisfaction  over  the  rough  pavements  and  long  flights 
of  stone  steps  until  we  came  to  the  hilltop  that  dominates  the 
city  of  Taichowfu.  Clean  roofs,  white  houses,  and  graceful 
pagodas  lay  stretched  out  before  us  and  they  were  good  to 
look  upon — better  at  that  distance,  no  doubt,  than  if  we  were 
very  near. 

One  spot — and  I  doubt  not  that  there  were  some  others — was 
even  more  attractive  under  close  scrutiny,  and  that  was  Father 
Eraser's  Mission,  which  had  been  built  somewhat  after  the  model 
of  that  at  Haimen  and  was  equally  interesting. 

The  cook  and  boys  had  been  preparing  for  us,  and  Father 
Fraser's  Chinese  assistant  gave  the  most  cordial  of  welcomes, 
so  that  we  were  at  home  as  soon  as  our  hats  had  disappeared. 
Our  stay  was  not  to  be  long,  however,  as  other  attractions  were 
awaiting  the  strangers. 

The  orphanage  was  full  of  gayety,  from  the  Superioress 
of  the  native  Sisters  to  the  smallest  chick.  The  Sisters  loaded 
me  down  with  Chinese  Agnus  Deis  and  the  children  insisted 
that  we  should  "Zo-zo" — "Sit  down  and  play"  with  them. 
I  often  think  of  the  games  which  these  poor  little  ones  do  not 
know  and  cannot  play  because  toys  cost  money;  but  just  as 
often  I  reflect  that  these  children  are  not  aware  that  they  are 
missing  anything  and  consequently  they  are  quite  as  happy  as 
their  rich  cousins.  I  must  admit,  though,  an  occasional  wild 
desire  to  gather  a  few  tons  of  abandoned  toys  from  sundry 
attics,  to  be  scattered  among  the  Catholic  orphanages  of  this 
yet  unglorious  republic  of  China. 

We  said  good-bye  to  the  orphans,  who  followed  us  with 
their  quaint  request  to  "go  away  slowly,"  and  turned  into  the 
house  of  the  aged  women.  Among  these  were  half-a-dozen  more 
active  than  the  others  and  their  curiosity  had  not  dimmed, 
even  a  little,  with  the  advancing  years. 

They  listened  to  Father  Fraser's  eulogy  of  the  great  American 
traveler  and  they  looked  at  him  in  evident  wonder  until  he  began 
to  feel  conscious  of  his  girth.  America  meant  nothing  to  them, 
but  this  stranger  must  be  very  tired  and  he  should  not  be  allowed 
to  go  away  from  Taichowfu  on  the  very  day  of  his  arrival. 
Nobody  had  ever  heard  of  any  one  doing  such  a  thing.    They 

168 


SOME  OF   CHINA'S   XATI\E   SISTERS,  WHOSE  HAPPY 
DISPOSITIONS   IMPRESS   ALL 


THE   BROADWAY 
FROM 


THAT   SEPARATES   THE   MISSION   COMPOUND 
THE   ORPHANAGE   AT  TAICl|OWFU 


( 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


heard  a  description  of  New  York's  fifty-story  buildings  with 
express  elevators  that  make  no  stop  until  the  twentieth  story 
is  reached,  and  they  were  speechless.  This  gave  an  opportunity 
to  get  away,  and  I  did  so  with  a  recollection  of  as  sunny  an 
environment  as  I  have  seen  in  China. 

Another  interesting  feature  at  Taichowfu  was  a  school  for 
catechists — young  men  who  live  in  community,  receiving  special 
instruction  and  performing  spiritual  exercises  daily,  during  a 
period  of  several  months.  These  young  men,  seven  or  eight  in 
number,  will,  when  the  course  is  finished,  depart  for  several 
mission  stations  to  serve  as  lay  assistants  to  a  pastor  who  cannot 
be  in  many  places  at  the  same  time. 

We  stayed  at  Taichowfu  for  the  evening  meal,  and  the 
recreation  hour  was  made  lively  by  a  group  of  youngsters  from 
the  orphanage,  who  came  in  to  salute  their  spiritual  father  and 
incidentally  to  receive  each  a  cracker,  more  or  less  sweet  and 
hard  as  a  nail. 

When  the  ceremony  was  over  we  formed  a  procession,  made 
up  of  the  baggage  boy,  the  domestics,  lantern  carriers,  and  the 
four  priests,  and  started  for  the  boat  along  a  cliff  wall  that  had 
no  guard-rail.  I  remarked  the  danger  but  was  assured  that 
nobody  ever  fell  over  the  cliff,  whereupon  I  convinced  myself 
that  I  must  be  safe.  As  to  the  boat  trip  ahead  of  us  by  night, 
Father  Fraser  innocently  remarked  that  it  was  not  at  all  unusual 
to  run  ashore  and  that  new  boats  were  needed  rather  frequently 
in  that  section. 

Back  to  Chusan. 

This  consoling  statement  set  me  to  thinking  about  my  engage- 
ment two  nights  later  in  Shanghai,  but  when  the  escort  had  said 
good-bye  and  I  found  myself  the  sole  occupant  of  a  "pantry" 
with  my  Chinese  bed  on  the  shelf  open  to  receive  a  somewhat 
tired  body,  my  fears  disappeared.  I  barred  the  door,  slipped  my 
valuables  into  my  waistcoat  for  use  as  a  precious  pillow,  tied  the 
blind  with  a  piece  of  rope,  blew  out  the  little  oil  lamp,  and  turned 
in  to  a  slumber  that  was  not  disturbed  until  twelve-thirty  a.  m., 
when  the  police  paid  us  a  dutiful  visit.  We  had  anticipated 
this  interruption  and  arranged  not  to  be  disturbed,  but  this  is 

169 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

China.  I  blessed  the  tribe,  referred  the  villain  who  roused  me  to 
Father  Buch,  and  resumed  the  passive  state  until  we  bumped 
into  another  boat  that  lay  sleeping  against  the  wharf  at  Haimen. 

How  quiet  the  streets  were,  and  the  houses,  behind  the 
shutters  of  which  thousands,  good  and  bad,  were  sleeping. 
This  section  is  noted  for  its  pirates  but  so  far  as  I  knew  we  did 
not  meet  any  on  that  trip.  Possibly,  however,  the  police  pro- 
tection against  which  I  had  silently  protested  the  night  before 
was  a  strong  reason.  I  am  told  that  in  this  region  when  a  fond 
father  has  three  sons  it  is  his  ambition  to  make  one  a  bonze, 
another  a  pirate,  and  the  third  the  father  to  a  new  generation.      ' 

As  there  was  no  possibility  of  leaving  Haimen  until  that 
night  we  settled  down  after  Mass  to  a  quiet  day,  which  passed 
pleasantly,  and  included  some  ball-tossing  with  the  larger  school- 
boys and  their  professors.  The  ball  was  mushy,  but  it  was 
just  as  well,  because  the  Chinese  boy's  face  is  soft  and  his  hands 
are  full  of  holes  when  he  wishes  to  catch.  This  is  not  true,  how- 
ever, of  all  Chinese  boys. 

Our  boat  left  late  in  the  afternoon  for  Ningpo.  The  boys 
lined  up  again,  the  buglers  bugled,  and  the  "troops  marched  oflf 
the  field,"  while  the  crowds  in  the  street  waited  to  see  what 
was  happening  as  we  passed  along  to  the  dock. 

From  the  boat  I  was  shown  an  excellent  work  accomplished 
by  the  founder  of  this  Mission,  Father  Lepers,  who  was  actually 
with  us  at  the  moment.  He  had  built  seven  thousand  feet  of 
stone  wall  out  into  the  river,  and  extended  to  it,  by  a  process 
of  filling,  the  limits  of  the  village,  thus  giving  wharfage  as  well 
as  new  land  and  turning  an  insignificant  village  into  an  important 
fishing-port.  The  sale  of  this  land  had  provided  for  Haimen 
and  Taichowfu  a  permanent  fund  sufficient  for  many  of  the  works 
carried  on  at  both  places. 

I  was  rather  interested  that  day  in  an  observation  made  by 
one  of  two  Chinese  who  were  with  our  group.  This  observation 
affected  the  beard,  long  and  black,  of  a  missioner,  the  Chinese 
remarking  that  if  he  were  its  possessor  he  would  become  a 
comedian.  This  might  have  been  intended  as  a  compliment, 
but  I  am  quite  certain  that  the  owner  of  the  belle  barbe  did 
not  take  it  as  such.     I  have  talked  on  the  subject  of  beards 

170 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

along  the  line  and  found  very  sensible  observations  in  regard 
to  it.  All  are  quite  agreed  that  the  beard  is  no  longer  needed, 
especially  in  the  larger  centres,  for  the  greater  influence  of  the 
missioner  among  the  Chinese,  and  that  it  is  a  matter  of  personal 
choice.  One  missioner  whose  beard  is  respectably  trimmed 
deprecates  the  fact  that  some  of  our  good  priests  look  like  bandits 
with  their  fierce  moustaches  and  hair-full  cheeks,  but — que 
voulez-voiis? 

It  is  a  matter  of  taste  and  possibly  of  time,  although  person- 
ally I  believe  that  it  takes  less  time  to  shave  daily  than  to  keep 
clean  a  large  handful  of  beard  upon  which  falls  the  day's  gather- 
ing of  crumbs,  germs,  and  dust.  I  can  understand,  however,  that 
it  would  be  a  real  sacrifice  for  many  a  missioner  to  part  with 
the  beard  which  for  long  years  he  has  stroked  affectionately 
and  nursed  assiduously;  and  again,  what  would  he  do  with  his 
hands? 

These  reflections  did  not  prevent  our  getting  away  from 
Haimen,  and  when  the  boat  started  the  captain,  who,  I  after- 
wards learned,  can  swear  in  Chinese,  ofl"ered  us  the  use  of  the 
saloon,  as  also  of  the  pilot-house.  The  saloon,  like  our  cabin,  had 
bars  on  the  windows  but  it  gave  us  a  chance  to  stretch  our  legs 
occasionally.  It  was  next  to  my  bed-shelf  and  the  captain 
entertained  until  quite  late,  but  I  forgave  him  and  have  since 
almost  forgotten  the  noise  made  on  that  occasion. 

Wednesday  morning  we  sighted  the  monastery  at  Chusan. 
Our  boat  was  to  continue  its  trip  as  far  as  Shanghai  but  we 
decided  that  it  would  be  best  to  leave  it,  get  over  to  Ningpo, 
and  that  night  let  me  take  a  real  steamer  to  my  destination. 

In  the  Hands  of  Father  Nugent,  C.  M. 

I  was  glad  for  many  reasons  that  we  did  this,  but  most  of 
all  because  at  Chusan  we  found  Father  Nugent,  whom  I  had 
been  hoping  to  meet.  Father  Nugent  had  landed  his  "boy"  and 
bedding  on  another  boat  than  that  which  we  had  planned  to 
take  but  he  came  with  us.  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  chat  in 
his  native  tongue.  Father  Nugent  is  a  young  Irish  priest,  a 
member  of  the  Vincentian  (Lazarist)  Order.  He  is  tall  and 
fair,  with  whiskers  of  gold  and  eyes  that  twinkle  in  blues.    He  is 

171 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

very  happy  in  his  work  and  radiates  sunshine  wherever  he  moves. 
This  young  priest  ran  into  small-pox  after  his  arrival  in  China 
and  emerged  from  it  slightly  scarred  but  none  the  worse  for 
wear,  and  today  he  prefers  Chinese  food  to  home  cooking — a 
positive  sign  that  he  is  destined  to  live  forever  among  the 
celestials. 

Built  to  command,  Father  Nugent  at  once  took  our  little 
party  under  his  wing  and  everybody  began  to  move  in  our 
direction.  We  had  had  no  breakfast.  A  "boy"  was  summoned 
and  a  few  minutes  later  five  raw  eggs  arrived  for  inspection. 
Father  Nugent's  face  grew  tense  as  he  took  the  ovals  and  shook 
each  in  turn,  listening  as  if  to  a  tuning  fork.  Evidently  the 
eggs  were  passable  and  the  "boy"  disappeared  with  them,  while 
Father  Nugent  continued  to  talk  at  me,  insisting  among  other 
things,  that  a  priest  with  a  weak  stomach  should  not  come 
to  China. 

He  told  me  that  to  arrive  at  Chusan  from  his  place  he  had 
walked  twelve  miles  before  taking  his  boat,  and  had  spent  a 
day  on  the  steamer  before  reaching  Chusan;  that  at  Chusan 
Sister  Xavier  had  been  keeping  candles  lighted  so  that  we  two 
should  not  fail  to  bump  our  heads  together;  that  he  had  succeeded 
Father  Andrew  Tsu,  who  had  been  massacred  by  bandits;  that 
he  himself  has  not  been  bothered  much  with  such  people  but 
that  he  has  to  keep  his  eyes  open  and  the  doors  of  his  house 
closed;  that  he  cannot  play  any  musical  instrument,  but  sings 
much  when  alone — then  suddenly  he  realized  that  those  eggs 
had  not  returned  and  he  broke  through  a  group  of  curious 
Chinese  to  find  out  why.  Three  minutes  later  they  came.  I 
expected  by  this  time  to  find  glass  eggs,  but  no,  they  had  been 
fried,  to  a  frazzle. 

A  small  cup  of  tea,  without  sugar  or  milk  of  course,  followed 
the  eggs.  The  captain  came  along  just  then  and  Father  Nugent 
gave  him  the  proper  greeting:  "Have  you  eaten?  Are  you 
filled  to  the  limit?"  And  the  honorable  skipper,  looking  at  our 
mess,  expressed  his  sorrow  that  we  had  not  been  provided  with 
enough  side-dishes  to  carry  the  rice  to  its  destination.  This, 
too,  was  a  formality.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  had  been  served 
with  neither  rice  nor  the  odds  and  ends  that  usually  accompany 

172 


o 

Cm 

o 


O 

Si 

I 

o 

— i 
< 

H 

o 

w 

o 

c- 

o 
ffi- 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

it.  Then  there  were  "Haivf's  on  each  side,  with  smiles  that  were 
priceless,  and  the  captain  passed  on,  leaving  Father  Nugent  to 
resume  his  travelogue. 

He  told  me  of  long  trips;  of  his  occasional  lodgings  in  pagodas 
where  he  had  actually  offered  in  a  quiet  corner  the  Holy  Sacrifice; 
of  his  breakfasts  with  bonzes;  of  his  chats  with  old  pagan  women 
whom  he  had  interrupted  when  they  were  saying  their  beads. 
In  the  meantime  an  itinerant  fiddler  opened  up  a  counter- 
attraction  at  our  doorway.  He  was  allowed  to  continue  until 
he  began  to  sing,  when  suddenly  Father  Nugent  pricked  up  his 
ears,  listened  for  a  few  bars,  shot  out  some  crisp  Chinklets,  and 
the  fiddler  was  silent. 

"What  did  you  say  to  him?"  I  asked,  and  Father  Nugent 
replied:  "I  told  him  to  shut  his  mouth  because  it  was  full  of 
badness  and  he  should  be  ashamed  of  it."  Certainly  the  would- 
be  entertainer  seemed  to  "lose  his  face."  In  any  event,  we  lost 
his  voice  for  the  remainder  of  the  trip. 

It  was  a  little  after  lunch  hour  when  we  arrived  at  the 
wharf  in  Ningpo,  where  we  found  Bishop  Reynaud  and  his 
priests  waving  a  welcome  from  the  balcony.  That  point  of 
observation  was  a  few  hundred  feet  away  and  separated  by  a 
crowded  thoroughfare,  but  Father  Nugent  started  a  long- 
distance conversation  without  a  megaphone  and  everybody 
seemed  interested,  even  if  all  could  not  understand. 

It  was  a  happy  group  of  priests  that  sat  down  to  lunch,  during 
which  we  learned  the  details  of  the  "battle"  of  Ningpo  which 
had  taken  place  in  our  absence.  The  soldiers  who  had  blocked 
our  path  were  local  revolutionists  who  needed  some  spare 
change.  Two  days  later  Northern  soldiers  arrived  and  a  score 
of  men  were  injured,  one  being  killed.  Then  there  were  parleys 
and  subscriptions,  as  a  result  of  which  each  of  the  noble  revo- 
lutionists received  fifty  silver  dollars,  laid  down  his  arms,  and 
went  back  to  his  usual  occupation — in  many  cases  watching 
the  turns  in  a  gambling  house.  During  the  trouble  several 
stores  had  been  looted. 

That  evening  I  left  Ningpo  in  a  large  coasting  steamer, 
the  sole  occupant  of  an  ordinary  stateroom  that  seemed  like  a 
royal  chamber.     We  were  only  three  passengers,  one  an  Eng- 

173 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

lishman  who  frightened  me  by  asking  if  I  was  the  man  expected 
in  Shanghai  the  next  day,  the  other  a  young  Chinese  physician 
who  had  been  sent  down  to  Ningpo  to  patch  up  the  wounded. 

I  talked  with  both,  and  each  in  turn  had  several  inquiries  to 
make  about  the  Catholic  Church.  The  Englishman  had  been 
fed  on  some  antiquated  ex-priest  literature,  and  the  young 
physician  must  have  run  into  a  remarkable  professor  at  the 
Yale  Medical  School  of  China — or  he  himself  must  have  had  a 
dream.  He  told  me  that  this  professor  had  explained  scientifically 
to  the  class  "the  changing  of  bread  into  wine — an  operation 
which  Catholic  priests  claim  to  effect  in  the  Mass."  If  we  Catho- 
lics only  realized  how  little  our  Faith  is  known  by  the  average 
Protestant! 


174 


OBSERVATI QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XII 

SHANGHAI   AND   HONGKONG 

E  reached  Shanghai  shortly  after  six  o'clock  Thurs- 
day morning,  and  my  thoughtful  Irish  friend  had  a 
carriage  with  three  attendants  to  bring  me  back 
to  the  Paris  Seminary  Procure,  which  felt  like 
home  with  its  simple  chapel  and  kindly  priests. 
After  Mass  the  telephone  began  to  ring  fre- 
quently and  I  soon  realized  that  I  should  have  made 
a  nice  mess  of  things  had  I  failed  to  appear  in  Shanghai  that  day. 
The  reception  prepared  by  Mr.  Carroll  and  his  friends  to 
honor  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of  America  brought 
to  the  Astor  House  more  than  five  hundred  people,  for  most  of 
whom  English  was  the  native  tongue.  Tea  and  cakes  were 
served  in  the  large  dining-room,  after  which  the  people  filled 
the  assembly  hall  for  a  talk  on  Catholic  Missions  in  China — and 
on  Maryknoll.  Some  fourteen  priests  were  present  on  the 
occasion  and  the  American  Consul  was  in  evidence. 

I  had  met  the  Consul,  Mr.  Sammon,  earlier  in  the  day.  He 
had  learned  of  my  visit  and  its  purpose,  and  was  undoubtedly 
pleased  to  know  that  American  priests  are  going  to  labor  in 
China.  He  told  me  that  he  had  often  wondered  why  we  had 
sent  none.  Mr.  Sammon  is  an  energetic  Consul,  interested  in 
any  phase  of  activity  that  will  redound  to  the  credit  of  our 
country.  I  could  not  but  admire  his  strong  loyalty,  but  as  our 
mission  concerns  the  souls  of  those  to  whom  we  expect  to  minister 
in  this  land  I  could  give  no  assurance  of  any  material  advantages 
except  those  that  would  be  derived  providentially  or  indirectly 
from  the  sacrifices  made  by  American  priests  for  the  glory  of  God. 
That  night  I  had  a  strong  feeling  that  some  good  might 
result  from  the  labors  and  generosity  of  those  Catholics  in  Shang- 
hai, who  had  organized  so  well  such  an  unusual  affair,  and  I 
hope  that  they  will  reap  the  fruits  of  their  zeal. 

The  next  morning  after  Mass  1  received  something  of  a 
shock  when  I  saw  the  figure  of  a  tall,  thin,  smooth-faced  priest 
kneeling  at  the  end  of  the  chapel.  It  was  Father  Eraser,  whom 
I  had  left  only  a  few  days  before  in  Taichowfu ;  and  he  had  come, 

175 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  soon  learned,  to  offer  assistance  to  MaryknoU.  This  proposi- 
tion meant  a  long  talk  that  morning,  and  when  it  was  over  I 
was  glad  in  the  thought  that  a  worthy  and  apostolic  priest  to 
whom  China  had  become  a  home  would  help  to  give  a  start  to 
our  young  Society. 

Father  Fraser  decided  to  stay  in  Shanghai  until  my  departure 
for  Hongkong,  and  he  carried  his  bed — his  faithful  companion — 
over  to  the  Lazarist  Procure  where  he  would  make  headquarters. 
I  hurried  then  to  meet  my  own  hosts,  with  whom  I  was  to 
go  for  tiffin  at  the  Bishop's. 

Can  the  American  Priest  Adapt  Himself? 

I  met  several  Jesuit  Fathers  on  this  occasion,  and  they,  like 
the  Bishop,  were  most  affable.  Bishop  Paris  has,  however,  an 
idea  that  American  priests  will  not  be  able  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  Chinese  life  with  its  quaint  customs  and  slow 
movement.  He  has  never  been  in  the  United  States  and  is 
quite  willing  to  admit  that  his  experience  with  priests  from  that 
country  has  been  very  limited,  but  his  idea  persists. 

I  assured  him  that  possibly  he  was  right,  but  I  reminded 
him  that  possibly  also  he  was  wrong;  that,  given  strong  faith 
with  charity  broad  and  deep,  the  grace  of  God  could  make  an 
apostle  out  of  even  an  American. 

O  you  American  youths,  what  an  opportunity  is  yours  to 
lay  out  the  ghosts  of  Americanism  and  Modernism  that  have 
floated  from  Europe  over  to  the  Far  East  and  found  cozy  corners 
and  fresh  waters  here  and  there  in  this  distant  land! 

Not  every  American  priest  who  comes  to  work  in  China  will 
succeed.  No  nationality  has  had  so  enviable  a  record  and  we  have 
no  right  to  believe  that  ours  will  be  the  exception.  American 
priests  will  make  mistakes,  and  we  who  send  them  out  shall  find 
that  our  judgment  will  not  always  be  true,  but  our  hope  is  strong 
that  American  Catholic  missionary  effort,  with  God's  help, 
will  prove  well  worth  while.  We  are  young  in  mission  experience 
and  have  much  to  learn.  If,  in  return  for  the  lessons  ahead  of 
us  we  can  give  something  more  than  money,  so  much  the  better. 
God  knows  the  future.  We  will  do  our  best  but  we  must  re- 
member His  kingdom  in  every  effort  that  we  make  for  souls. 

176 


o 
z 

-^ 

Q 
O 
O 

D 

■Tl 

KH 
^H 

H 
CO 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  glory  of  our  young  Society  and  that  of  our  nationality  will 
take  care  of  themselves  and  need  not  concern  us. 

An  Excursion  to  Hangchow. 

The  day  following  the  reception  at  Shanghai  I  met  several 
men  who  called  to  express  the  hope  that  they  might  be  of  use  to 
American  missioners  in  China.  One  was  connected  with  the 
Chinese  postal  service  and  had  traveled  over  China.  Another, 
a  business  man  from  New  York,  opened  several  avenues  of 
possible  help  to  Catholic  missions  in  China.  I  also  saw  that  day 
several  English-speaking  Catholics  who  are  anxious  to  secure 
all  possible  spiritual  advantages  for  themselves  and  their  families 
as  well  as  for  their  fellow-Catholics  who  speak  English. 

Sunday  morning  after  an  early  Mass  Father  Eraser  and  I 
started  for  Hangchow.  Our  train  was  scheduled  to  leave  a 
suburban  station  at  eight  o'clock  and  the  driver  of  the  auto-Ford, 
who  was  sent  by  Mr.  C —  to  take  us,  arrived  late  and  lost  his 
way  to  the  train,  which  ambled  out  just  as  we  came  along. 
One  minute  would  have  saved  us  many  a  disturbance  that  day, 
but  we  lost  those  precious  sixty  seconds. 

I  tried  to  express  my  feelings  with  a  despairing  gesture  but 
nobody  was  affected,  not  even  our  driver,  who  went  away  quite 
unconcerned.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  an  accommo- 
dation train  that  might  turn  up  within  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
after  a  look  at  the  rogues'  gallery,  a  sheet  of  photographs  labeled 
Wanted  by  the  Police  which  is  hung  up  in  various  public  places, 
we  settled  down. 

The  train  came  along  in  good  time  and  we  hoped  yet  to  carry 
out  our  plan  of  taking  lunch  at  Kiashing  with  the  pastor  and 
Father  O'Leary.  Readers  of  The  Field  Afar  will  recall  sundry 
letters  from  Fathers  O'Leary  and  O'Reilly,  who  passed  through 
Ireland  on  their  way  to  China  a  few  short  years  ago  and  whose 
names  later  appeared  as  O'Lealey  and  O'Liley.  We  were  going 
to  meet  one  of  the  two  at  Kiashing,  but  which  of  them  I  was  not 
certain,  because  the  good  French  Fathers  whom  I  had  seen  in 
Chekiang  were  not  keen  on  the  distinction. 

As  a  matter  of  record  we  met  neither  at  Kiashing.  There 
was  nobody  at  the  station,  and  we  hesitated.     Had  I  been  alone 

177 


OBSERVAT  I  0\S    /  .V    THE    0  R  I  E  X  T 

I  would  have  "jumped"  the  accommodation  again  and  star\-ed, 
because  in  that  whiteless  town  I  could  never  make  a  rickshaw 
man  or  a  chair-carrier  understand  me.  Buc  I  had  now  as  com- 
panion a  past  master  of  the  yellow  language,  and  we  were  soon 
plunging  in  rickshaws  through  the  alleys  of  Kiashing.  The 
pavements  were  rough  but  there  was  no  dinner  to  be  jolted  out 
of  its  place.  Occasionally  we  crossed  canal  bridges  reached  by 
flights  of  steps  more  or  less  short.  For  the  longer  flights  we 
dismounted  but  over  the  shorter  ones  our  men  yanked  us  up 
and  bumped  us  down. 

It  was  harrowing,  but  finally  we  arrived — at  the  wrong  place. 
We  were  not  far  away,  however,  and  a  short  run  brought  us 
into  the  Mission  compound  and  in  front  of  a  very  attractive 
residence,  with  which  a  chapel  was  combined,  all  in  a  simple 
Italian  style  of  architecture  designed  by  the  pastor,  Father 
Asinelli,  a  native  of  sunny  Italy.  There  was  nobody  in  sight  or 
within  hearing,  and  the  kitchen  was  as  tight  as  a  safety  vault. 
And  we  had  been  looking  forward  to  a  feast,  with  the  accompani- 
ment of  an  Irish  harp,  a  Scotch  bagpipe,  and  an  American  tin- 
whistle! 

Gradually  the  world  within  the  compound  awoke  and  we 
learned  that  the  priests,  not  finding  us  at  the  train  which  we  had 
missed,  had  themselves  gone  on  to  Hangchow.  We  had  just 
enough  time  left  to  make,  in  Kiashing,  the  second  \'isit  planned — 
to  the  Seminar^',  where  the  Lazarist  Pro\*incial  and  the  professors 
gave  us  a  brotherly  greeting. 

That  evening  we  found  Father  0'Lear\-.  with  Father  McArdle, 
a  doughty  little  Scotch  priest,  waiting  for  us  at  the  railway 
station  in  Hangchow.  It  seemed  strange  to  hear  everybody 
in  that  small  group  hammering  his  English  as  to  the  manner 
born  and  I  felt  that  it  was  the  heralding  of  a  new  day  for  English- 
speaking  Catholic  priests — a  day  full  of  possibilities  for  the 
Cause  of  Christ. 

As  we  were  getting  ready  to  leave  the  station  I  was  asked 
for  my  passport  and  the  young  Chinese  officer  made  the  request 
in  English.  I  presented  the  document,  which  I  am  quite 
certain  he  could  not  read,  and  then  slapping  him  on  the 
shoulder   I   asked,   "Where  did    you   get  your  English?*'     He 

178 


OBSERVAT I OXS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

looked  at  me  rather  hopelessly  and  answered,  "I  do  not  speak 
French." 

We  passed  on  to  a  princely  welcome  from  Bishop  Faveau  and 
his  priests,  who  had  received  a  telegram  from  Kiashing  and 
had  delayed  dinner  for  us. 

A  Picnic — no  less. 

Hangchow  is  large  and,  like  all  Chinese  cities,  crowded. 
It  is  a  full  half-hour's  rickshaw  run  through  alleys  teeming  with 
life  to  the  Catholic  Mission,  the  heart  of  the  new  vicariate 
which,  like  all  new  vicariates,  as  with  new  parishes  generally, 
has  already  proved  the  wisdom  of  a  division.  Bishop  Faveau 
was  formerly  in  charge  of  the  Mission  to  which  he  has  returned 
as  Vicar-Apostolic,  and  hi?  priestly  character,  his  simple  life,  and 
generous  nature  are  reflected  in  the  priests  associated  with 
him,  all  to  the  advantage  of  the  future  of  Catholicity  in  that 
important  centre. 

We  decided  to  stay  over  Monday  in  Hangchow  and  there  was 
talk  of  a  peekneek  out  on  the  lake. 

China  is  full  of  surprises,  pleasant  and  otherwise,  and  as  I 
was  in  the  hands  of  my  friends,  with  no  guidebook  to  bother  me 
and  nothing  particular  to  see,  I  resigned  myself  to  the  idea  that 
we  were  going  away  some  distance  to  a  place  of  local  interest. 
What  concerned  me  was  an  opportunity  to  talk  with  the  Bishop 
and  his  priests.    Of  this  I  was  sure. 

We  started  away  the  next  morning,  from  the  open  air  of 
the  compound  into  the  dark,  narrow,  crowded  streets,  but 
before  we  had  gone  many  hundred  feet  we  swung  into  a  side  lane 
less  obstructed  and  after  a  walk  of  about  twenty  minutes, 
eccolo! — it  was  like  waking  from  a  nightmare.  An  extensive 
lake,  dotted  with  islands  backed  by  hills,  lay  sparkling  in  the 
morning  sun  before  us,  and  a  house-boat  had  its  gilded  doors 
open  to  receive  us.  On  a  little  table  inside  the  cabin  tea  was 
steaming  and  peanuts  in  plenty  had  opened  their  shells  in 
anticipation  of  our  coming.  The  motion  of  the  boat  sculled 
from  the  rear  did  not  suggest  poetr>%  but  we  lumbered  safely 
to  an  island  that  would  make  the  manager  of  an  American 
summer  resort  green  with  envy.    Evidently  in  the  warmer  months 

179 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

this  island,  with  its  now  untenanted  garden-restaurant,  has 
many  visitors,  but  as  yet  the  lake  has  not  been  largely 
exploited. 

As  we  climbed  to  the  outlook  and  enjoyed  the  wide  horizon 
it  was  hard  to  realize  that  in  the  harmless-looking  extent  of  low 
buildings  that  made  up  the  city  across  from  us  there  could  be 
such  a  multitude  of  human  beings  and — must  we  say  it? — so 
much  dirt.  Will  the  Chinese  as  a  people  ever  get  into  the  cleaning 
habit?  Cleanliness  we  know  is  often  far  from  godliness,  but 
godliness  ought  to  beget,  as  one  of  its  flowers,  respect  for  the 
tabernacles  of  souls  that  are  immortal  and  destined  to  live 
with  God. 

We  had  stepped  into  a  paradise  and  I  went  down  the  quaint 
rustic  steps  reluctantly — wondering  if  we  were  turning  back. 
The  boat  swung  out  again  into  the  lake  and  headed  for  another 
island,  coming  into  collision  at  one  point  with  a  smaller  craft 
that  was  being  very  badly  rowed  by  no  less  important  personages 
than  the  Bishop's  cook  and  "boy."  The  plot  was  thickening — 
and  half  an  hour  later,  when  we  walked  over  small  stone  bridges 
and  under  bamboo  trees  into  another  unoccupied  summer  house, 
I  was  not  surprised  to  find  the  two  oarsmen  hard  at  work  over 
the  noonday  meal.  The  table  was  set  as  if  we  were  at  the  Mission. 
The  Bishop,  his  Vicar-General,  and  all  the  priests  of  the  house- 
hold, together  with  the  English-speaking  quartette,  made  a 
large  company  and  in  every  respect  the  repast  was  a  success. 

We  loitered  about  for  a  while  and  returning  to  the  city 
went  back  to  the  Mission  by  a  new  road  that  made  one  feel  as 
if  he  were  on  the  boulevard  of  an  American  city.  As  China 
opens  its  eyes  it  is  beginning  to  widen  its  thoroughfares.  Light 
and  air  introduce  other  reforms  and  little  by  little  the  old  order 
is  changing. 

The  Return  to  Shanghai. 

We  were  up  next  day  almost  with  the  Lazarist  Fathers,  who 
rise  at  four  o'clock,  and  our  bonny  Scotchman  came  to  see  us 
off  when  Father  Fraser,  Father  O'Leary,  and  meseV  took  the 
train  for  Shanghai.  Father  O'Leary's  immediate  destination 
was  the  Consulate  office,  as  he  will  hereafter  be  associated  with 

180 


This  circular  opening  is  actually  cut  out  of  a 

cement  wall,  —  a  frequentlj'-found  means  of 

entrance  in  China 


An  island  that  would  make  the  manager  of  an  American  summer  resort 
green  with  envy."     (p.  lyg.) 

THE   PICNIC  AT  HANGCHOW 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  Maynooth  China  Mission  and  has  been  asked  to  gather  some 
of  the  needful  for  this  good  work. 

About  an  hour  before  its  arrival  at  Shanghai  Father  Fraser 
and  I  left  the  train  at  Songkaong  to  take  lunch  with  Father 
Lorando,  S.  J.,  whose  relatives  I  had  met  in  New  York.  Father 
Lorando  was  at  the  station  and  had  provided  chairs  for  us.  On 
the  way  to  his  house  I  was  particularly  impressed  with  the 
marked  curiosity  of  the  people,  some  of  whom  put  their  faces 
close  to  my  window  to  inspect  the  inmate.  Later  Father  Fraser 
told  me  that  I  was  riding  in  a  mandarin  chair  with  four  bearers. 
What  sensations  I  missed  by  being  unconscious  of  this  honor! 

Father  Lorando  is  in  charge  of  an  extensive  district  with 
many  priests,  European  and  Chinese,  directing  small  scattered 
settlements.  At  the  centre  he  has  the  usual  group  of  mission 
buildings,  well-kept  and  filled.  Our  visit  was  hurried,  as  we 
had  to  catch  a  train  soon  after  lunch.  On  the  way  to  the  station 
we  passed  a  building  fronting  a  small  pond.  Two  little  boys 
were  coming  out  of  the  gate  with  fishing  rods  and  Father  Lorando 
told  me  that  they  were  preparing  to  be  bonzes.  I  thought  of  our 
preparatory  school  for  the  priesthood  and  felt  badly  to  think 
that  these  children  were  not  privileged  to  know  the  "one  true 
God  and  Jesus  Christ  Whom  He  has  sent." 

Getting  back  to  Shanghai  is  almost  like  catching  a  glimpse 
of  America  and  I  had  a  homey  feeling  as  we  entered  the  city. 

That  afternoon  and  the  next  day  there  were  many  people  to 
see,  passports  to  be  viseed,  and  other  matters  to  be  cleaned  up, 
so  that  I  was  busy  until  Thursday  morning,  when  I  left  for 
Hongkong.  The  steamer  was  to  have  sailed  at  daybreak,  but 
schedules  change  easily  over  here  and  we  were  notified  in  advance, 
so  that  I  was  able  to  say  Mass  before  leaving.  Several  priests 
and  laymen,  together  with  two  of  the  Marianist  Brothers,  came 
to  the  boat  to  say  good-bye. 

Along  the  China  Coast. 

The  boat  was  a  coasting  steamer,  freighted  with  Chinese, 
horses,  sheep,  goats,  cotton  and  a  hundred  other  odds  and  ends. 
Above  this  combination  were  the  quarters  for  European  or 
white  passengers  and  for  the  officers.     There  were  in  all  four 

181 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

staterooms  with  seven  passengers,  of  whom  one  was  a  lady  from 
Australia.  The  dining-room  was  identical  with  the  saloon,  and 
the  staterooms  were  off  the  dining-room,  so  that  we  soon  fell 
into  the  family  spirit  and  the  voyage,  though  somewhat  rough, 
was  very  restful  and  agreeable.  It  lasted  from  Thursday 
morning  until  Monday,  but^was  broken  by  a  stop  of  fourteen 
hours  at  Amoy,  in  the  province  of  Fokien. 

We  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  Amoy  and  through  the  kindly 
offices  of  a  young  Portuguese,  whose  father  came  for  him  in  a 
steamer  launch,  I  managed  to  get  ashore,  and  after  a  short  visit 
to  the  home  of  this  Portuguese  family  I  was  taken  in  a  sampan 
to  the  Cathedral  landing.  This  is  as  much  of  Amoy  as  I  saw, 
except  from  the  steamer. 

I  soon  found  myself  perplexed.  The  Bishop  was  away; 
the  only  priest  about  was  old,  ill,  and  in  bed;  my  boat  was  due 
to  sail  at  six  the  next  morning,  Sunday,  and  I  was  anxious  to  say 
Mass.  I  decided  to  run  the  risk  of  bothering  several  people  and 
the  further  risk  of  losing  my  steamer. 

The  old  priest  had  intended  to  limber  up  for  Sunday,  so 
that  he  was  soon  in  evidence — at  least  for  an  hour,  during 
which  I  met  a  few  venerable  nuns,  all  Spanish  Dominicans,  as 
this  is  a  Spanish  Mission  and  under  Dominican  jurisdiction. 
Before  leaving  me  the  Padre  rather  solemnly  placed  on  the  table 
a  ponderous  English  Catholic  Bible,  such  as  book  agents  once 
sold  on  installments  in  America,  and  a  set  of  the  new  Barcelona 
Encyclopedia,  an  excellent  work,  by  the  way,  which  I  had  seen 
for  the  first  time  at  the  Jesuit  School  in  Tokyo.  He  then  retired 
and  I  occupied  myself  until  eight  p.  m.,  when  three  of  us,  in- 
cluding the  Padre  and  a  Chinese  dog,  had  dinner. 

I  was  concerned  about  getting  out  to  my  steamer  in  the 
morning  but  was  assured  that  in  some  way  unknown  to  me  I 
should  arrive.  The  Padre,  after  a  serious  calculation,  decided 
that  the  tide  would  not  allow  our  boat  to  leave  Amoy  before 
six-thirty,  but  the  captain  had  decided  otherwise  and  I  kept 
six  o'clock  in  view. 

My  room  led  out  to  a  balcony,  and  a  blind  man  might  have 
found  it  cheerful,  but  with  a  good-sized  bolt  on  the  balcony 
door  and  bars  on  the  window  Maryknoll  would  have  the  pref- 

182 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

erence  in  my  choice.  I  slept  that  night  with  one  eye  open, 
I  beHeve,  and  was  up  at  four,  ready  for  Mass  before  five  and  on 
the  dock  at  five-thirty  with  two  "boys,"  one  holding  a  candle, 
the  other  breaking  the  silence  of  that  Sabbath  morn  in  an  effort 
to  arouse  some  one  of  many  hundred  boatmen  to  whom  Sunday 
meant  nothing  but  who  were  dead  to  the  world  in  their  respective 
sampans.  Finally  one  near  us  responded,  stretched  himself, 
and  pushed  over  to  the  Mission  landing.  One  of  the  "boys" 
entered  the  sampan  with  me  and  of  this  I  was  glad,  because  he 
knew  the  location  of  my  steamer.  All  went  well  for  two  minutes, 
when  we  slid  upon  a  rock  and  I  had  an  opportunity  to  make  use 
of  some  early  experience  gained  under  somewhat  similar  cir- 
cumstances in  canoes. 

Twenty  minutes  later  we  discoverd  the  hulk  and  landing 
stage  of  the  steamer.  In  the  early  twilight  I  could  see  the  sheep 
and  goats,  and  they  were  almost  as  welcome  a  sight  as  the  pigs 
at'MaryknoU  in  November.  I  clambered  up  the  rope-bound 
steps,  over  freight,  and  ran  into  the  first  mate.  It  was  five- 
fifty-five  and  twenty  minutes  later  the  steamer  was  on  the  way 
to  Hongkong.  I  was  thankful  to  have  had  the  opportunity 
to  say  Mass,  and  thankful  to  have  returned  in  time.  At  break- 
fast the  "family"  welcomed  me  "home." 

At  Home  in  Hongkong. 

The  next  morning,  Monday,  as  we  docked  at  the  foot  of 
the  beautiful  hill  city  of  Hongkong  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
for  the  first  time  a  priest  whom  I  had  long  known  by  correspon- 
dence, Pere  Robert  of  the  Paris  Foreign  Missions.  One  of  his 
assistants.  Father  Ouillon,  was  with  him  and  soon  we  were 
climbing  the  steeps  of  Hongkong  to  34  Caine  Road,  the  Central 
Procure  for  the  great  Mission  Society  of  France. 

As  we  turned  into  a  delightful  but  rather  neglected  old  garden 
and  mounted  a  long  flight  of  steps  to  a  mansion  that  looked 
the  worse  for  wear,  FatherRobert  remarked  that  this  had  formerly 
been  occupied  by  the  American  Consulate.  The  coincidence  was 
interesting,  but  after  entering  I  wondered  if  the  stairs  were 
uncarpeted  and  the  walls  bare  in  the  Consul's  time.  I  found  the 
spirit  of  the  house  delightful  and  an  explanation  of  its  dilapidated 

183 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

state  was  given  the  next  day  when  I  was  brought  to  the 
new  Procure  in  process  of  erection  in  a  more  convenient 
neighborhood. 

Accumulated  mail  from  Maryknoll  kept  me  busy  for  a  while 
that  morning,  and  I  breathed  a  sigh  of  reUef  with  a  prayer 
of  thanks  when  no  distressing  news  appeared. 

That  morning  I  met  another  priest,  Father  Tour,  with  whom 
I  had  been  in  touch  for  many  years.  His  home  is  at  Pokfulum, 
near  Hongkong,  and  his  special  work  is  to  give  retreats  to  priests 
and  nuns  in  the  various  missions.  This  is  a  most  useful  and 
necessary  feature  of  mission  life  which  is  rarely  mentioned, 
although  it  means  considerable  expense  in  the  course  of  a  year, 
as  the  priests  engaged  in  it  must  travel  long  distances. 

Maryknoll  Mission  in  Sight. 

Before  tifin  it  was  my  privilege  to  greet  the  one  man  who, 
with  Fere  Robert,  I  was  most  anxious  to  see — Bishop  de  Gue- 
briant  of  Canton.  Shortly  after  the  foundation  of  the  Catholic 
Foreign  Mission  Society  of  America  I  received  letters  from  three 
Bishops  in  the  foreign  missions  offering  their  congratulations, 
expressing  their  delight  at  the  prospect  of  American  helpers, 
and  suggesting  their  own  vicariates  as  possible  fields  for  Mary- 
knoll priests. 

The  one  suggestion  from  China — the  land  where  we  felt  we 
should  be  most  needed — revealed  itself  in  a  letter  from  the  then 
Bishop  of  Szechuan,  Monseigneur  de  Guebriant. 

Later,  much  against  his  own  desire.  Bishop  de  Guebriant  was 
called  by  his  superiors  to  Canton,  where  he  found  a  large  field 
with  a  personnel  of  priests  reduced  to  the  minimum  by  the 
miserable  conscription  laws  of  France  that  oblige  even  priests 
on  the  mission  field  to  give  up  their  work  for  souls.  Before 
leaving  the  United  States  I  received,  through  several  sources, 
a  strong  intimation  that  if  we  so  desired,  and  Rome  would 
approve,  we  should  be  welcome  to  a  section  of  the  vicariate  of 
Canton.  I  had  hardly  met  Bishop  de  Guebriant  before  I  realized 
that  Maryknoll's  first  mission  in  the  Orient  had  been  found, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  my  eyes  were  on  the  map  of  China,  riveted 
to  a  point  marked  YEUNGKONG. 

184 


''(_>:■:>■  .'//•■  i\:.ii[-  til  I'liLi'nii:/}!,'    a  liaxcu  of  n_>t  lOr  llu-  l'ari>  nii>hi(iinTb 


'As  we  docked  at  the  fool  of  the  beautiful  hill  city  of  Hongkong."     {iSj.) 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  must  confess  that  I  had  never  heard  of  the  place,  a  sub-pre- 
fecture southwest  of  Canton  on  the  coast,  nor  of  another  sub- 
prefecture,  LOTING,  further  north,  which  was  to  be  ours  with 
its  two  dependencies,  WANFO  and  SI  LIN.  I  told  Bishop  de 
Guebriant,  however,  that  I  could  see  no  reason  why,  so  far  as  it 
lay  with  us,  we  should  not  take  advantage  of  his  offer,  and  I 
arranged  to  visit  him  before  Christmas  at  Canton,  where  he 
himself  went  that  afternoon. 

Visits  in  Hongkong. 

At  Caine  Road  I  soon  began  to  realize  the  activities  of 
Father  Robert  and  his  two  assistants  at  the  Procure.  In  ten 
days  they  had  received  or  sent  away  some  eighteen  visitors, 
mostly  missioners.  Requests  from  the  interior  for  all  kinds  of 
material  needs  came  with  practically  every  daily  mail ;  business 
men  of  the  city  were  frequently  in  the  reception  rooms;  and  the 
telephone  rang  as  merrily  as  in  some  down-town  office  in  any 
large  city  of  Europe  or  America. 

The  new  Procure,  v/hich  is  rapidly  nearing  completion,  will 
be  in  every  way  better  adapted  to  the  existing  needs  than  the 
former  house  with  its  spacious  corridors  and  rooms.  For  its 
purpose  this  new  Procure  has  probably  the  best  location  in 
Hongkong — elevated,  yet  easily  accessible  from  the  wharves, 
and  at  the  same  time  isolated  by  a  great  parade  ground  on  one 
side  and  a  park  on  the  other.  It  will  have  accommodation  for 
a  score  of  missioners  and  will  contain  a  chapel  with  several 
altars,  also  offices  and  living  rooms.  The  expense  of  construction 
will  be  met  by  the  sale  of  the  old  property. 

An  early  visit  on  the  day  after  arriving  at  Hongkong  was 
to  Bishop  Pozzoni,  the  first  of  the  Milan  missioners  whom  I  had 
yet  met,  although  I  had  been  anxious  to  get  in  touch  with  some 
members  of  the  Society  whose  great  kindness  Father  Price  and 
I  had  experienced  at  Milan  on  our  way  to  and  from  Rome. 

Bishop  Pozzoni  has  all  the  zeal  of  a  young  apostle  though 
he  has  passed  well  across  the  half-century  line  of  life.  He  was 
extremely  interested  in  the  idea  of  supplying  American  Catholic 
missioners  to  China  and  immediately  expressed  the  hope  that 
we  would  have  some  men  near  enough  to  help  him,  occasionally 

185 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

at  least,  to  meet  the  spiritual  needs  of  English-speaking  residents 
in  Hongkong.  He  himself  speaks  English  and  preaches  frequently 
in  that  language.  At  the  moment,  in  fact,  he  had  the  proof- 
sheets  of  a  devotional  booklet  which  he  then  and  there  asked 
me  to  edit. 

My  visit  extended  itself  far  beyond  my  calculations  and  at 
its  close  I  found  myself  booked  for  two  sermons  the  following 
Sunday,  one  at  the  Cathedral,  the  other  at  St.  Joseph's,  and 
for  a  couple  more  on  the  Feast  of  the  Epiphany. 

Fortunately  for  my  other  work  I  managed  to  get  away  that 
morning  without  binding  myself  further  and  to  keep  an  engage- 
ment with  Father  Tour  for  my  first  visit  to  Pokfulum. 

Over  the  Peak   to  Pokfulum. 

We  made  this  trip  by  taking  the  funicular  (the  inclined 
railway)  to  its  terminus  on  the  peak,  and  walking  for  about  half 
an  hour  on  a  perfectly  laid  footpath  over  the  mountain,  which 
brought  us  to  the  entrance  of  a  large,  attractive  structure 
admirably  set  in  a  garden  of  trees  and  flowers  with  an  outlook 
to  the  south  over  the  China  Sea.  This  is  one  of  two  buildings 
owned  and  occupied  by  the  Paris  Society  for  its  several  purposes. 

The  Paris  Society,  it  must  be  recalled,  has  until  recently  had 
some  fourteen  hundred  priests  in  Eastern  Asia.  At  Pokfulum, 
as  the  district  is  known  to  the  civil  authorities,  it  has  for  many 
years  sustained  a  sanatorium,  called  Bethany,  for  its  invalid  and 
convalescent  missioners.  Nearby  is  a  retreat  house,  to  which  is 
attached  an  extensive  printing-establishment  for  the  publication 
of  religious  books  and  pamphlets  in  the  several  languages  used 
by  the  peoples  to  whom  the  Society  had  devoted  its  energies  for 
the  past  three  hundred  years.  The  priests  at  the  retreat  house, 
which  is  known  as  Nazareth,  lead  a  community  life  and  are 
occupied  in  literary  labors  or  in  giving  retreats,  either  outside 
or  to  missioners  who  go  to  Pokfulum  expressly  for  this 
advantage. 

My  stay  at  Pokfulum  was  all  too  short,  but  long  enough  to 
realize  not  only  the  great  need  of  just  such  an  institution  as  I 
found  there  but  also  the  wisdom  shown  in  the  selection  of  its 
site.    I  arranged  to  return  here  for  a  stay  of  several  days  so  as 

186 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

to  come  into  closer  touch  with  the  possibilities,  present  and 
future,  of  Nazareth  and  Bethany  as  a  help  to  our  own  young  work. 

We  walked  back  to  the  city  by  a  first-class  road,  stepping 
aside  every  few  moments  at  the  bidding  of  clacking  automobile 
horns.  Half-way  along  the  line  we  met  a  funeral  procession  that 
had  halted  on  its  way  out  to  give  the  mourners  a  chance  for 
refreshment.  The  corpse,  bulked  in  its  matting,  had  been  de- 
posited in  the  shade  by  its  bearers,  who  were  enjoying  their 
rest  and  smoke  as  we  passed.  From  that  point  on  we  saw  here 
and  there  small  paper  disks,  supposed  to  be  money  expended 
by  the  relatives  of  the  deceased  in  his  honor,  if  not  for  his  benefit. 

The  next  day,  Wednesday,  Bishop  Pozzoni  brought  me 
through  what  is  known  as  the  Italian  Convent.  The  name  is 
misleading,  as  Italian  is  not  the  language  of  the  house  and  the 
many  activities  within  affect  a  personnel  of  some  eight  hundred, 
few  of  whom,  except  the  group  of  Italian  nuns  in  charge,  speak 
the  Italian  tongue.  These  nuns  are  the  Canossian  Sisters, 
whose  work  I  saw  for  the  first  time  at  Hankow.  They  are 
bright,  enterprising,  and  zealous — admirable  helpers  to  the  good 
Bishop  of  Hongkong  in  his  twofold  task  of  propagating  the 
Faith  among  the  heathen  and  preserving  it  to  the  Whites  and 
Eurasians  who  live  in  Hongkong. 

That  day  I  also  visited  the  American  Consul  and  received 
the  visit  of  our  one  Hongkong  Field  Afar  paid  subscriber.  It 
looks  now  as  if  this  honor  will  be  shared  by  others. 

At  a  Chinese  Club. 

Thursday  (the  twentieth),  after  a  busy  morning  a  little 
company  of  priests,  together  with  Bishop  Pozzoni  and  a  few 
Catholic  laymen,  met  shortly  after  noon  at  a  Chinese  business 
men's  club  for  a  somewhat  unusual  and  very  interesting  affair 
that  had  been  prepared  by  one  of  Father  Robert's  many  friends 
for  GUI'  entertainment. 

It  was  a  Chinese  dinner,  and  as  the  club  rooms  are  not 
occupied,  as  a  rule,  until  the  evening,  we  were  privileged  to 
make  ourselves  quite  at  home.  While  waiting  for  the  call  to 
arms  I  stretched  myself  on  one  of  the  deep  wooden  seats,  rested 
my  head  on  a  porcelain  brick  within  reach  of  which  was  an 

187 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

opium  pipe  that  seemed  to  be  common  property,  and  tried  to 
spell  the  word  "comfort,"  but  failed. 

I  was  surprised  to  be  told  on  this  occasion  that  Chinese 
business  men  often  discuss  important  details  over  the  pipe, 
which,  while  eventually  it  deadens,  acts  often  as  a  mental 
stimulant.  We  saw  no  exhibition,  however,  and  no  one  of  our 
staid  company  attempted  even  a  dry  smoke. 

The  dissertation  on  opium  was  interrupted  by  the  salutation 
of  a  Chinese  waiter,  one  of  whose  eyes  was  out  of  sympathy  with 
the  other,  and  after  the  Bishop's  blessing,  which  gave  our  host, 
a  pagan,  something  of  a  start,  we  proceeded  to  dispose  of 
soup  in  various  forms,  birds'  nests,  and  other  unknown  sub- 
stances, the  names  of  which  were  given  by  our  host,  who  also 
enlightened  us,  so  far  as  was  possible,  on  the  subject  of  their 
ingredients.  Some  one  has  told  me  that  at  a  really  sumptuous 
Chinese  banquet  the  number  of  courses  may  run  into  hundreds 
and  continue  for  days.  We  had  several  courses,  but  ours  was  a 
very  modest  banquet  and  we  left  the  table  at  a  respectable  hour, 
feeling  that  we  had  dined  lightly,  as  becomes  good  Christians. 

The  club-room  itself  was  a  great  square  room,  evidently 
hired,  and  not  at  all  luxurious  in  its  fittings.  Our  host,  a 
bright  young  Chinaman  who  was  pleased  to  speak  English,  told 
me  that  it  has  about  twenty  members,  all  serious  and  enter- 
prising. He  was  evidently  interested  in  our  prayers  before  and 
after  the  meal  and  at  his  request  the  Bishop  explained  their 
significance.  It  was  our  return  for  this  man's  kindness  and  may 
yet  mean  more  than  we  realize. 

One  of  the  laymen  present  on  this  occasion  told  me  that 
he  has  met  not  a  few  pagan  Chinese  of  influence  who  stated 
that  they  would  become  Catholics  without  hesitation  if  they 
could  free  themselves  from  the  entanglements  produced  by 
polygamy,  a  state  which  they  had  accepted  as  a  matter  of  course. 
It  would  seem  to  us  that  where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way,  but 
a  Chinese  pagan  does  not  get  easily  into  our  point  of  view. 

Some  Religious  Activities. 

In  Hongkong,  besides  the  Italian  Convent  there  is  also  a 
French  Convent,  one  as  much  of  a  misnomer  as  the  other  but 

188 


C/5 

H 

Ph 


1^ 

o 

i 

Ph 

O 

•—* 
CO 


O 

o 
o 
o 


CO 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

both  admirable  and  efficient.  These  two  great  institutions 
meet  similar  needs  and  there  is  evidently  room  for  both. 

Until  a  few  years  ago  the  French  Convent  was  installed 
in  quarters  altogether  inadequate,  and  the  Sisters  who  directed 
it — Sisters  of  St.  Paul  de  Chartres — ^were  at  their  wits'  end  until 
that  indefatigable  worker,  Pere  Robert,  set  his  practical  mind 
to  consider  the  problem. 

There  was  a  factory  for  sale  at  a  very  convenient  point  for 
the  "French  Convent,"  and  suddenly  this  factory  changed  hands. 
It  soon  also  began  to  change  face,  because  Pere  Robert  was  at 
work  on  it.  The  venture  was  a  big  one,  involving  half  a  million 
Mexican  dollars.  Money  had  to  be  borrowed,  and  the  good  nuns 
became  frightened,  a  condition  of  mind  that  was  not  improved 
by  unsought  counsellors  whose  heads  shook  solemnly  in  dis- 
approval. Father  Robert  must  have  had  his  troubles  in  those 
days,  but,  assured  of  the  Sisters*  confidence,  he  pushed  the 
enterprise  through  and  the  institution  as  planned,  and  as  already 
largely  completed,  will  be  a  model  settlement. 

I  visited  this  place  with  Pere  Robert  on  Friday,  the  twenty- 
eighth.  It  was  a  rapid  run  with  a  busy  man  through  a  long 
extent  of  buildings  accommodating  an  orphanage,  a  boarding 
and  day  school  for  girls,  a  hospital,  and  dispensary,  with  several 
other  departments,  all  well  planned  and  up-to-date  but  evidently 
executed  with  wise  economy.  Simplicity,  solidity,  and  cleanliness 
marked  this  establishment  from  door  to  door  and  its  success  is 
already  guaranteed.  The  English  Government,  too,  has  rec- 
ognized its  worth  and  at  great  expense  has  turned  a  marsh-land 
at  one  end  of  the  property  into  a  public  park,  which  now  gives 
an  attractive  outlook  from  the  convent  veranda. 

Sunday,  December  23,  was  especially  fine.  The  birds  were 
singing,  the  trees  looked  particularly  green,  and  the  flowers 
appeared  as  fresh  as  in  June  at  home. 

I  was  due  to  preach  at  the  Cathedral  at  nine-forty  a.  m. 
and  before  that  hour  I  should  go  to  the  police  station  for  a  permit 
to  leave  the  city,  because  you  know  we  are  in  war-times. 

Fortunately  there  was  no  delay  at  the  police  station,  which 
opened  for  this  special  line  of  business  at  nine  o'clock,  and  fortu- 
nately, too,  the  place  was  near  the  Cathedral,  which  I  gained 

189 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

by  a  long  flight  of  steps  just  before  nine-thirty.  As  I  reached 
the  Bishop's  a  few  minutes  later  I  thought  that  he  would  be  on 
the  anxious  seat,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  occasioned  my  late 
appearance  in  the  pulpit,  which  I  was  privileged  to  occupy  about 
fifteen  minutes,  when,  as  directed,  I  returned  to  the  sacristy, 
hastily  divested  myself  of  the  surplice,  took  a  chair  whose  carriers 
had  already  been  instructed,  and  was  borne  off  to  the  unknown 
St.  Joseph's. 

It  was  only  a  ten-minute  walk  and  most  delightful.  Leaving 
the  sacristy,  we  crossed  the  length  of  the  Cathedral  and  passed 
out  into  a  public  highway  that  traversed  a  hanging  garden 
looking  down  on  the  city  and  its  harbor.  St.  Joseph's  is  prettily 
situated  in  a  retired  spot  and  the  congregation — all  English- 
speaking — was  entering  as  I  reached  the  door.  The  pastor  here 
is  of  Polish  nationality  but  he  speaks  English  and  his  heart  is 
Catholic.  I  saw  him  only  for  a  few  moments  after  Mass,  as  I 
was  expected  at  the  Bishop's  for  dinner. 

Among  the  priests  that  day  at  Bishop  Pozzoni's  table  was  a 
venerable  Chinese,  whose  zeal  for  souls  keeps  him  long  hours 
in  the  confessional.  He  recently  celebrated  his  Golden  Jubilee 
and  when  somebody  suggested  that  he  should  now  take  more 
rest  his  simple  reply  was — "No,  I  am  getting  near  the  end  and  I 
must  try  to  work  harder  so  as  to  be  well  prepared."  This  good 
old  Chinese  priest  told  me  that  he  was  among  those  who  met 
Th^ophane  Venard  when  the  young  martyr  of  Tongking,  then 
fresh  from  the  Seminary,  arrived  at  Hongkong. 


190 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XIII 

A   MEMORABLE   CHRISTMAS 

HAT  evening  towards  nine  o'clock  Father  Souvey — 
one  of  Father  Robert's  assistants  — and  I  took  the 
night-boat  for  Canton,  where,  as  planned  months 
before  at  Maryknoll,  I  had  hoped  to  spend  Christ- 
mas. 

The  boat  was  Chinese  but  the  captain  was 
Irish  and  gave  us  a  proper  salute  before  the  craft 
started.  That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  his  little  red  face  until 
the  next  morning,  but  in  the  meantime  we  realized  that  in 
spite  of  that  Irish  face  the  atmosphere  was  genuinely  Oriental. 

We  were  directed  to  go  "top  side" —  which  means  up  to  the 
main  deck — and  after  getting  a  view  of  the  lighted  hill-city  as 
we  swung  out  from  the  wharf  and  along  the  harbor  channel  we 
sought  the  shelter  of  our  cabin.  It  was  not  inviting.  The 
berths  rested  within  two  inches  of  the  floor  and  were  sheetless. 
The  door  would  not  lock  and  there  was  no  water  in  the  tank  of 
the  washstand.     The  windows  were  barred  against  pilferers. 

We  were  paying,  however,  in  experience  and  coin,  so  we 
turned  in  with  the  clothes  that  carried  our  valuables,  pulled 
somewhat  gingerly  a  much-used  blanket  toward  our  shoulders, 
and  listened  to  the  noise  of  a  small  Chinatown  in  the  next  cabin 
until  eleven-thirty  p.  m.,  when  we  slumbered. 

Half-an-hour  later  the  villainous  ticket-takers  made  their 
rounds,  starting  up  all  kinds  of  cries  and  rousing  us  so  thoroughly 
that  sleep  gave  place  to  physical  exercise  for  the  remainder  of 
the  night. 

We  were  steaming  slowly  towards  the  city  of  Canton  as  I 
went  out  on  deck  at  dawn.  Red  lights  floated  here  and  there, 
marking  the  channel;  and  faintly  outlined  against  the  still  dark 
sky  were  the  twin  towers  of  the  Canton  Cathedral,  the  most 
beautiful  building  of  its  kind  in  all  China. 

Two  priests  were  waiting  for  us — Father  Fourquet,  the  Vicar- 
General,  whom  I  had  met  some  years  before  in  Paris,  and  Fathef 
Pradel,  the  Procurator.  We  clasped  hands  on  the  dock  and 
passed  our  satchels  to  the  domestic,  just  as  we  were  caught  in  a 

191 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Chinese  wedge  that  tried  to  force  a  passage  by  the  custom 
inspectors.  As  I  swung  in  front  of  these  two  worthies  I  looked 
up  and  faced  two  brawny  red-headed  Irishmen.  We  had  just 
time  to  exchange  what  might  have  been  winks,  and  I  joined 
my  companions,  marvehng  again  at  the  wanderlust  winds  that 
drive  the  sons  of  Erin  over  the  face  of  this  earth. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas  and  even  as  we  vested  for 
Mass  preparations  had  begun  for  the  great  festival.  That 
morning,  in  company  with  Bishop  de  Guebriant,  I  saw  the 
principal  works  of  the  compound :  the  school  for  catechumens, 
the  orphanage,  the  Seminary,  and  the  Sacred  Heart  College,  all 
very  promising,  especially  the  well-housed  Seminary  and  the 
large  College,  to  both  of  which  I  will  probably  make  allusion 
later. 

There  are  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor  at  Canton — not  many  yet, 
because  their  present  house  is  small  and  they  are  waiting  and 
praying  for  something  much  larger.  They  will  certainly  get 
what  they  want  and  their  eyes  are  already  on  tne  desired  prop- 
erty. Doubtless  they  have  managed  to  stow  away  a  few 
statues  of  their  favorite  saints  in  some  corner  of  the  place,  so 
as  to  make  sure  that  no  one  else  will  get  it;  for  of  such  is  the 
faith  of  Little  Sisters — the  faith  of  children,  and  of  such  is  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

And  the  Chinese  themselves.  Catholics  and  pagans,  will  pay 
for  the  new  property,  because  these  Little  Sisters  of  Canton, 
among  whom,  by  the  way,  are  two  Irish  nuns,  know  that  city, 
in  some  respects  at  least,  better  than  General  Lung  of  the  army 
or  the  chief  of  the  Kwangtung  bandits.  Not  that  Little  Sisters 
should  be  classed  with  military  leaders  or  robbers,  but  they 
certainly  have  a  way  of  finding  out  "who's  who"  when  it  is  a 
question  of  getting  something  for  God  and  for  "the  old  people." 

The  Midnight  Mass. 

It  was  nearing  midnight  on  Christmas  Eve.  The  arousing 
signals  had  been  given  and  as  there  was  yet  time  I  went  out 
to  the  balcony  on  which  my  room  opened. 

The  calm  light  of  the  moon  fell  on  the  splendid  church 
whose  buttressed  apse  and  west  transept  were  discernible  now, 

192 


THE   CUSTOM-HOUSE   AT   CANTON 


THE   BUND   IN   CANTON   AT   ITS   LEAST   BUSY   MOIMENT 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

even  in  their  details.  Between  the  church  and  the  Bishop's 
house  the  path  was  outHned  by  a  wealth  of  flowers  in  bloom,  all 
ready  in  their  own  settings  to  contribute  their  beauty  to  the 
great  feast.  Looking  at  the  church  I  marveled  here,  as  I  had 
so  often,  at  the  skill  and  courage  of  pioneer  missioners.  The 
Cathedral  at  Canton,  which  is  a  monument  to  the  generosity  of 
French  people,  especially  to  Napoleon  III,  was  designed  and  its 
erection  was  supervised  by  a  former  bishop  of  this  vicariate. 
The  rearing  of  the  structure  in  a  strange  land,  by  hands  trained 
exclusively  to  things  Oriental,  at  a  period  when  Catholics — still 
few — were  practically  without  representation  in  the  city,  was 
nothing  short  of  boldness. 

High  in  one  of  the  tall  and  graceful  spires  the  deep-toned 
bell  began  to  ring  joyously,  and  through  the  trees  beyond  the 
gateway  I  could  see  the  Chinese  Christians  already  flocking  to 
Mass. 

We  of  the  Bishop's  household  were  to  be  somewhat  scattered 
that  holy  night.  Bishop  de  Gu^briant  himself  had  elected 
to  offer  his  own  Mass  in  the  chapel  of  the  Little  Sisters  of  the 
Poor,  a  few  minutes  walk  away  from  the  compound;  Father 
Fourquet  was  due  at  the  convent,  also  outside  of  the  Mission 
enclosure;  Father  Pradel,  the  Procurator,  was  expected  at 
Shameen,  the  island-concession  where  Europeans  and  Americans 
live  in  greater  safety — and  comparative  isolation.  The  Cathe- 
dral Mass  was  my  assignment  and  I  went  in  to  vest. 

The  church  was  aglow  with  life  and  light.  Great  lanterns, 
gorgeous  in  color,  swung  in  their  places  the  whole  length  of 
the  nave.  The  usual  scant  supply  of  electricity  was  supplemented 
by  some  especially  strong  light  effects,  produced  by  gasoline, 
or  possibly  acetylene  lamps,  that  were  sizzling  an  accompaniment 
to  the  vocal  prayers  of  the  assembled  worshippers. 

The  lower  half  of  the  church  was  already  well  filled  with 
pantalooned  mothers  and  their  daughters,  while  the  upper 
portion,  habitually  reserved  for  men  and  youths,  was  being 
occupied  by  these  lords  who,  clad  in  their  best  dresses,  sauntered 
in  through  the  transept  doors. 

As  the  great  bell  rang  out  again  in  wild  joy  it  was  followed 
by  an  explosion  of  fire-crackers,  and  I  wondered  what  the  tens 

193 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

of  thousands  of  Chinese  pagans  who  had  been  sleeping  quietly 
within  ear-shot  knew  or  thought  of  this  anniversary  so  precious 
to  every  Christian.  Would  any  of  them  hasten  that  night  with 
the  shepherds  to  Bethlehem? 

Around  me  were  standing,  in  quiet  dignity,  a  half-dozen 
priests,  mostly  Chinese,  and  a  score  of  well-trained,  neatly- 
dressed  altar  boys.  How  strong  the  contrast  between  their 
lively  faith  and  the  deadening  superstitions  that  abounded 
outside  this  sacred  enclosure  I  How  near  is  Christ  to  these 
millions  who  know  Him  not! 

The  signal  was  given  and  we  moved  slowly  to  the  altar. 
From  an  organ  outside  and  near  the  sanctuary  came  a  sweet 
prelude  well  played,  and  in  a  few  moments  Mass,  a  simple 
low  Mass,  had  begun. 

There  was  music  during  the  service,  and  I  recall  hearing 
the  familiar  strains  of  Noel,  which  I  afterwards  learned  had 
been  sung  by  the  seminarians.  I  also  recall  immediately  after 
the  Consecration  another  explosion  of  fire-crackers,  that  ran 
merrily  for  a  few  minutes  and  finished  as  if  a  bomb  had  exploded 
in  the  church  vestibule.  It  was  not  startling,  however.  On  the 
contrary,  as  I  realized  the  motive,  it  was  as  solemn  as  the  "pre- 
sent arms"  of  a  company  of  soldiers  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament. 

But  best  of  all,  that  night,  was  the  picture  of  Chinese  men, 
women,  and  children  who,  not  content  with  seeing  and  adoring 
the  Divine  Babe  swaddled  in  the  accidents  of  Bread,  came  to 
tabernacle  Him  in  their  own  bodies.  Two  priests  gave  Holy 
Communion  steadily  until  after  a  second  Mass  had  been  finished. 

The  Canadian  Sisters. 

My  third  Mass  of  Christmas  day  was  celebrated  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  convent  chapel,  outside  the  Mission  compound. 
In  planning  to  arrive  at  Canton  for  Christmas  I  had  included 
the  intention  of  saying  this  Mass,  because,  for  several  reasons, 
I  had  become  interested  in  the  community  of  Sisters  at  Canton. 

In  the  first  place,  I  had  known  personally  their  founder, 
the  late  Abbe  Bourassa  of  Montreal.  Again,  although  not  from 
the  States,  the  Sisters  are  Americans  and  a  new  congregation 
trying  out  their  apostolic  zeal  for  the  first  time  on  the  soil  of 

194 


"High  ill  one  of  (he  tail  and  graceful  spires  the  deep-toned  bell 
began  to  ring  joyously."     {p.  igj.) 


' Beticxcn  the  chiircJi  and  the  Bishop's  house  the  path  ij-as  outlined  by  a 
wealth  of  Jlowers  in  blootn.''     {p.  1(13.) 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

China.  Finally,  one  of  the  first  members  of  The  Field  Afar 
clerical  staff,  Miss  Mary  Donovan,  had  joined  this  community 
and  was  actually  Sister  Mary  Angeline  of  Canton. 

I  managed  with  some  difficulty  to  get  to  the  right  alley  that 
led  into  the  large  grounds  occupied  by  the  Sisters.  A  few  of  the 
convent  school  boarders,  who  had  come  from  their  homes  for 
the  Midnight  Mass  and  had  feared  to  return,  represented  one 
branch  of  the  Sisters'  activities  here,  but  at  Mass  there  were  also 
the  orphans  and  the  native  nuns. 

The  Maryknoll  Field  Afar. 

At  Hongkong  I  had  told  Bishop  de  Guebriant  that  so  far 
as  I  could  see  we  of  Maryknoll  would  accept  his  offer — under 
authorization,  of  course,  as  required,  of  the  Sacred  Congregation 
of  Propaganda.  I  had  no  further  comment  now  to  make  and 
nothing  more  to  ask  for,  as  I  had  reason  to  place  the  most 
complete  confidence  in  the  judgment  and  disinterestedness  of 
the  Bishop  of  Canton.  There  remained  only  to  draw  up 
an  agreement  which  should  be  forwarded  to  Rome,  and 
Bishop  de  Guebriant  set  himself  without  delay  to  prepare 
the  document. 

I  thought  much  that  day  of  Maryknoll's  future  field. 

From  several  points  of  view  it  is  not  attractive.  It  lies 
in  the  south  of  China,  where  everybody  swelters  in  the  summer 
months.  The  entire  province  has  been  and  is  yet  upset  through 
political  conditions  which  seem  to  become  more  and  more 
hopelessly  involved.  On  the  sea-coast,  along  which  one  portion 
of  the  Mission  extends,  and  on  the  West  River,  its  northern 
boundary,  there  are  many  pirates;  while  in  the  interior  bandits 
have  been  allowed  to  go  even  to  the  extremes  of  burning  villages, 
shooting  their  fellowmen,  and  looting  everything  they  could  lay 
their  hands  on.  The  Mission  contains  not  one  considerable 
city,  and  has  at  present  only  a  thousand  Christians  scattered 
among  a  million  heathen.  Even  this  thousand  is  an  outside 
calculation,  and  probably  exaggerated,  because  since  the  European 
war  began  no  priest  could  be  spared  to  watch  this  portion  of 
the  vineyard.  Picking  up  from  my  desk  the  report  of  the 
vicariate  for  the  preceding  year,  I  read  its  concluding  paragraph : 

195 


OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

"  Numerous  troops  raised  to  defend  the  Republic  continued  to 
operate  on  their  own  account.  They  held  the  country  districts, 
pillaging  at  will.  Nearly  all  of  the  mission-districts  suffered 
from  these  soldiers — and  some  of  the  priests  ran  real  dangers. 
On  July  4,  1916,  the  Christians  at  Lantung  were  attacked  and 
seven  were  killed.'" 

And  Lantung  lies  in  Maryknoll's  new  Mission!  "Not  alto- 
gether encouraging,"  I  admitted  to  myself  as  I  read,  but  such 
conditions  must  be  faced  without  hesitation  by  Catholic  mission- 
ers;  and  the  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  I  felt  convinced  that 
the  priests  of  Maryknoll  would  be  stimulated  rather  than  dis- 
couraged by  the  prospect.  The  future  is  in  God's  hands.  Out 
of  chaos  He  can  bring  order.  Weak  instruments  He  can  use 
to  accomplish  great  things.  May  He  find  in  our  pioneers 
apostolic  hearts  beating  in  unison  with  His,  and  in  their  quest 
for  souls  may  they  be  mindful  above  all  things  of  His  greater 
Glory! 

At  ten  o'clock  Christmas  morning  there  were  more  fire- 
crackers ushering  in  the  Pontificial  Mass,  at  which  Bishop  de 
Guebriant  ofificiated,  assisted  by  some  of  his  priests  and  the 
native  seminarians.  The  ceremony  was  quite  perfect  in  detail, 
the  church  was  again  well  filled,  and  the  choir  added  to  a' well- 
rendered  Mass  by  Dumont  the  indispensable  and  home-calling 
"Adeste,  Fideles."  One  of  the  teaching-Brothers  is  organist 
here,  and  another  supplemented  this  instrument  on  Christmas 
Day  with  the  strong  yet  pleasing  tones  of  a  French  horn. 

After  Mass,  as  I  passed  into  the  house,  many  of  the  people 
were  waiting  to  salute  the  Bishop,  and  among  them  I  found  a 
returned  San  Franciscan,  Mr.  Lo  Tai  Ching,  who  had  reared 
his  family  of  seven  in  the  States  and  whose  daughter  knows 
English,  as  the  proud  father  remarked,  better  than  any  Chinese 
girl  in  Canton.  Mr.  Lo  was  pleased  to  learn  that  on  the  way 
over  I  had  met  Father  Bradley  of  San  Francisco,  for  whom 
the  Catholic  Chinese  in  that  city  have  a  high  regard. 

When  the  Bishop  was  free  I  went  to  his  room.  There,  in 
presence  of  Father  Fourquet,  the  Vicar-General,  and  Father 
Souvey,  who  had  come  with  me  to  Canton,  after  a  prayer  to 
the  Holy  Ghost,  we  signed  the  agreement  by  which,  so  far  as  it 

196 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

lay  in  the  power  of  either  and  both  of  us,  the  Catholic  Foreign 
Mission  Society  of  America  should  he  entrusted  with  its  first 
Mission,  that  of  YEUNGKONG  and  LOTING  in  the  province 
of  Kwangtung. 

A  little  later  the  contract  was  on  its  way  to  Rome  and  a 
cablegram  went  over  seas  announcing  to  all  at  Maryknoll 
the  glad  tidings  that  a  field  had  been  found.  It  was  the  Christ 
Child's  gift  to  our  young  Society.  May  we  put  it  to  the  best 
possible  use  and  prove  worthy  of  the  responsibility  which  its 
possession  will  carry! 

That  afternoon  I  went  with  the  Bishop  and  a  few  priests 
to  Shameen,  where  I  had  an  opportunity  to  preach  in  English 
to  the  little  congregation.  Shameen  is  like  a  small  island  park 
and  the  Catholic  church  there  is  picturesque  in  itself  and  in 
its  setting.  I  had  heard  some  confessions  here  the  previous 
evening.  Most  of  the  English-speaking  Catholics  in  Shameen 
are  of  Portuguese  descent. 

I  had  a  feeling  of  great  relief  that  day.  It  recalled  an  emotion 
experienced  in  Rome  when,  on  the  feast  of  the  Apostles  Peter 
and  Paul,  June  29,  1911,  in  his  own  apartment  the  late  saintly 
Cardinal  Gotti  gave  to  our  young  Society  its  commission  and 
bade  it  start  on  its  task.      I  went  to  rest  happy  and  thankful. 

A  Cheerful  Cemetery. 

An  after-Christmas  excursion  was  planned  for  Thursday,  the 
twenty-seventh.  It  was  designed  to  give  me  a  glimpse  of  a  small 
Christian  settlement,  also  to  try  out  my  skill  again  in  the 
manipulation  of  chopsticks.  The  Bishop  was  detained  at  the 
last  moment,  but  three  of  us  started  ofif  to  pass  a  few  pleasant 
hours  at  the  Mission  alluded  to,  which,  so  far  as  I  could  learn, 
bore  only  the  cheerful  name  of  CEMETER  Y. 

One  of  the  three.  Father  Pradel,  was  until  the  war  in  charge  of 
this  Mission.  He  had,  in  fact,  established  it  and  his  heart  was 
still  there.  Cemetery  jokes  have  no  effect  on  the  genial  Father 
and  proximity  to  a  City  of  the  Dead  seems  to  have  added  to 
his  own  life  and  liveliness. 

We  took  rickshaws  to  the  West  Gate  of  the  city  and  after 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  found  ourselves  away  from  houses 

197 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  well  in  the  country.  Leaving  the  main  highway,  we  followed 
a  footpath  that  went  in  and  out  among  mounds  of  dead,  until 
I  began  to  wonder,  as  I  have  often,  indeed,  since  my  arrival 
in  China,  where  those  who  are  under  ground  found  room  above 
it.  The  more  serious  reflection,  however,  concerned  the  vast 
horde — millions  upon  millions — who  had  passed  through  life 
out  into  eternity  with  no  appreciation  of  the  one  true  God  and  of 
Jesus  Christ,  His  Son  and  Message-Eearer. 

It  is  said  that  a  soul  leaves  this  earth  every  second.  Figure 
it  out  and  note  the  result  in  that  calculation: 

In  one  minute 60 

In  one  hour  60  Z  60 3,600 

In  one  day  3,600  X  24 86,400 

In  one  year  86,400  X  365 31,536,000 

souls  finish  their  period  of  test  and  go  to  God  for  judgment. 
And  if,  as  we  are  assured,  China  contains  one-fourth  of  all  the 
people  of  this  earth,  there  are  nearly  eight  millions  of  Chinese 
bodies  to  be  disposed  of  yearly — and  eight  million  Chinese 
immortal  souls  to  be  judged.  Yet  we  are  sometimes  cautioned 
that  there  is  no  need  to  hasten  with  world-evangelization,  we 
should  occupy  ourselves  unceasingly  with  those  who  already 
know  Christ,  until  the  golden  age  shall  come  when  our 
present  charges  shall  be  saints, — then  we  may  turn  to  the 
heathen. 

We  were  approaching  Father  Pradel's  Mission.  As  he  pointed 
out  his  church,  dominating  the  little  village,  I  nearly  stumbled 
over  a  rough  plank  that  served  as  a  bridge  to  cross  a  paddy- 
ditch,  and  my  attention  was  called  to  the  fact  that  this  board 
had  been  appropriated  from  some  one  of  the  multitudinous 
coffins  stalled  in  the  surrounding  fields. 

We  were  now  meeting  along  the  line  Christians,  whom  one 
can  almost  invariably  distinguish.  The  faces  of  these  simple 
country  people  light  up  with  the  friendliest  kind  of  smile  when 
they  meet  the  priest.  They  utter  some  words  of  welcome, 
usually  in  the  form  of  a  prayer,  and  without  either  embarrass- 
ment or  boldness  converse  with  their  spiritual  father  just  as 
long  as  he  desires. 

198 


mm^i^ 


.  btumoKiJK-Xfm^'e^mtmm  iiiin'jwa 


'A  praiUcai  iiii-air^Liiiait  ^  -  tiic  co)}ibi}ialio)i  of  chapel  'iiid  Diissiojicr's  house."     {p.  igg) 


■  The  faces  of  these  simple  country  people  light  up  with  the  friendliest  kind  of  smile 

■when  they  meet  the  priest."     (p.  igS.) 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

There  was  a  stir  as  we  reached  the  settlement,  and  from 
various  corners  human  Hfe  began  to  appear.  In  spite  of  its  name 
and  its  proximity  to  graveyards  this  little  Christian  hamlet  is 
quite  attractive,  with  its  score  of  homes  flanked  by  a  large  pond 
and  guarded  by  the  missioner's  house,  which  serves  at  the  same 
time  as  the  House  of  God. 

Into  the  chapel  we  entered  with  the  people,  all  of  whom, 
after  the  Angeliis  and  a  few  other  prayers  had  been  recited, 
followed  us  outside.  They  were  curious  to  know  where  such 
a  freakish-looking  individual  as  I  came  in — without  cassock  or 
beard.  America  meant  nothing  to  these  countrymen,  but  they 
were  satisfied  when  they  learned  that  I  was  a  priest. 

While  mutual  observations  were  in  progress  a  woman  who 
seemed  to  be  queen  of  the  hive  put  in  an  appearance  and,  after 
reverently  saluting  Father  Pradel,  raised  her  voice  to  a  pitch 
that  silenced  even  the  babes  and  poured  out  in  an  indignant 
tone  large  volumes  of  Chinese,  until  I  began  to  fear  for  my  host. 
Later  I  understood  that  some  local  authority  had  been  trying  to 
clip  this  queen  bee's  wings  by  some  injustice,  real  or  imagined, 
and  she  was  anxious  to  let  Father  Pradel  know  how  matters 
stood. 

The  dinner  that  day  was  Chinese  up  to  and  including  the 
chopsticks.  The  menu  had  been  carefully  painted  by  the 
catechist's  brush  and  faithfully  executed  by  the  cook.  The 
parishioners  looked  in  from  time  to  time  to  enjoy  the  spectacle 
and  the  Chinese  curate  was  the  silent  hero  of  the  occasion. 

I  recall  what  struck  me  as  a  practical  arrangement  in  this 
little  Christian  settlement — the  combination  of  chapel  and 
missioner's  house.  The  chapel  was  on  the  ground  floor,  as  were 
also  the  reception  and  dining  rooms  of  the  priest.  Above  were 
two  bedrooms  and  a  living-room  and  from  his  living-room  the 
priest  could  enter  the  gallery  of  the  chapel.  This  gave  him  easy 
access  to  the  Blessed  Sacrament  and  an  almost  constant  guard 
over  It. 

As  we  were  returning  that  afternoon  and  reached  the  West 
Gate  we  skirted  the  grim  walls  of  a  prison,  and  at  the  suggestion 
of  my  companions  we  turned  into  a  settlement  of  lepers.  Un- 
doubtedly I  had  passed,  without  observing,  more  than  one  leper 

199 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

in  the  streets  of  China,  but  here  I  caught  my  first  conscious 
gHmpse  of  leprosy  and  its  ravages. 

There  were  about  fifty  unfortunates  settled  at  this  point, 
all  apparently  with  no  organized  means  of  subsistence.  They 
were  squatted  or  lying  on  the  stone  pavements,  or  walking 
aimlessly  about.  Evidently  our  approach  surprised  them  and 
they  regarded  us  curiously,  but  when  one  of  our  group,  yielding 
to  the  importunities  of  a  rotting,  shivering  mortal,  gave  him 
the  price  of  a  blanket  (he  had  no  covering  and  the  nights  are 
cold),  the  whole  settlement  awoke  and  it  was  with  real  difficulty 
that  we  finally  escaped  from  the  pleadings  of  the  others  and 
from  contact  with  their  festering  hands. 

There  are  many  respectable  Chinese  today  who  believe  that 
these  and  all  other  lepers  have  no  further  right  to  life  and 
should  be  despatched  by  government  authority.  It  is  a  fact 
well-authenticated  that  quite  recently,  in  spite  of  the  ofifer  of  a 
Catholic  Bishop  to  care  for  them,  a  large  group  of  these  unfortu- 
nate victims  were  actually  burned  to  death  by  the  order  of  a 
local  mandarin.  We  left  these  lepers  at  the  West  Gate  and  a 
few  days  later,  at  Sheklung,  I  had  a  beautiful  object  lesson  of 
compassion  for  the  leper  exercised  by  the  followers  of 
Christ. 

Nearing  the  city  we  walked  east,  so  that  I  might  get  some 
idea  of  the  extensive  Protestant  settlements  at  Canton.  I  re- 
marked a  large  group  of  comfortable-looking  residences,  many 
tennis-courts,  several  large  buildings,  and  a  rather  insignificant 
church.  My  companions  could  give  me  scant  information 
about  the  activities  represented  by  this  outlay  and  I  had  no 
immediate  opportunity  to  become  enlightened  on  the  subject. 
I  know,  however,  that  in  this  province  of  Kwangtung  Protestants 
have  an  unusually  large  personnel  at  work. 

That  day,  on  returning,  I  found  a  portly  Chinaman  in  frock- 
coat  and  trousers,  who  speaks  English  and  who  had  come  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  American  priest.  This  man,  though  still 
young,  is  a  widower.  He  is  a  graduate  of  the  Sacred  Heart 
College  and  an  exemplary  Catholic.  He  expressed  to  me  his 
desire  to  give  as  much  of  his  time  to  charity  as  his  necessary 
duties  would  permit. 

200 


OBSERV  AT  IONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

On  Father  Conrardy's  Leper  Island  at  Sheklung. 

Sheklung  is  the  name  of  a  railway  station  on  the  line  from 
Hongkong  to  Canton — a  run  of  about  an  hour  and  a  half  from 
Canton,  if  you  are  lucky  enough  to  be  on  the  express  and  if  there 
is  no  revolution  in  progress. 

Through  Sheklung  runs  one  of  the  streams  of  a  delta,  and, 
looking  eastward  from  the  car-window,  an  interested  passenger 
might  discern,  a  mile  away,  an  island  with  white  houses  stand- 
ing among  growing  trees.  It  is  the  leper  colony  of  Sheklung,  the 
largest  institution  of  its  kind  in  China,  if  not  in  the  world. 

Many  American  Catholics — bishops,  priests,  nuns,  and  the 
laity — will  recall  Father  Conrardy,  the  priest  who  founded 
this  excellent  work.  Father  Conrardy,  like  Father  Damien, 
was  a  Belgian  by  birth.  He  had  known  Father  Damien  and  had 
lived  with  him  in  Molokai,  with  the  result  that  he  became  en- 
grossed with  one  idea — the  spiritual  and  material  welfare  of  lepers. 
In  the  United  States  Father  Conrardy  studied  medicine  to  fit 
himself  the  better  for  his  future  task.  He  gathered  alms  in  many 
countries,  attracting  friends  by  the  breadth  of  his  charity  and 
repelling  others,  who  might  have  been  good  benefactors,  by  an 
unfortunate  lack  of  tact  that  was  one  of  the  defects  of  his  qualities. 

There  were  some  who,  failing  to  see  the  apostle  in  this  man, 
suspected  and  frowned  on  him,  but  his  singleness  of  purpose 
carried  him  through  great  trials,  and  on  this  little  island  near 
Sheklung  he  poured  out  his  gatherings,  denying  himself  the 
simplest  comforts  so  that  his  beloved  lepers  might  have  all. 
He  purchased  as  much  of  the  island  as  he  could  afford,  built 
shacks,  and  brought  from  the  highways  all  the  outcasts  that  he 
could  accommodate.  Then  he  so  impressed  the  Chinese  authori- 
ties with  his  willingness  to  extend  his  charity  that  an  allowance — 
a  paltry  one,  not  much  more  than  five  cents  a  day  for  the 
support  of  each  victim — was  made,  and  with  a  guard  of  soldiers 
in  continuous  residence  the  new  settlement  came  under  police 
protection,  houses  were  built  and  opened,  and  the  number  of 
inmates  ran  quickly  into  hundreds. 

A  young  French  priest  was  found  to  assist  the  veteran — 
and  not  a  moment  too  soon,  because  God  accepted  the  sacrifice 
of  Father  Conrardy,  who,  within  a  short  period  after  the  more 

201 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

complete  establishment  of  his  excellent   work,  was    called   to 
his  reward. 

A   Young  Priest's  Sacrifice. 

I  went  to  Sheklung  on  Friday,  December  28,  in  company 
with  Father  Nicouleau ,  the  priest  in  charge  of  the  Sheklung  mission, 
which  extends  on  a  radius  of  several  miles. 

Father  Conrardy's  successor.  Father  Deswazieres,  met  us 
at  the  station,  and  after  leaving  Father  Nicouleau  at  his  home, 
took  me  immediately  to  the  river-bank,  where  the  lazaretto 
sampan  was  waiting  for  us  with  three  of  the  stronger  lepers 
ready  to  carry  us  to  our  destination.  As  we  walked  towards 
the  boat  I  asked  Father  Deswazieres  for  information  about 
Protestant  work  for  lepers  at  Sheklung,  as  I  had  received  from 
one  of  their  reports  an  impression  that  it  was  co-extensive  with 
his  own.  He  told  me  that  there  is,  in  fact,  another  leper  estab- 
lishment in  Protestant  hands  about  nine  miles  from  Sheklung. 
It  has  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  inmates  and 
the  minister  in  charge,  who  lives  six  miles  away  from  it,  visits 
the  asylum  once  or  twice  a  month. 

The  lepers  held  the  boat  steady  for  us  as  we  entered  the 
little  cabin,  curtained  by  the  Sisters  with  cheap  cloth,  and  we 
were  soon  out  in  the  stream  making  headway  against  the  strong 
current.  I  could  look  into  the  swollen  faces  of  two  lepers  rowing 
in  the  bow  of  the  boat  and  I  did  so  with  more  interest  than 
repugnance,  but  I  soon  turned  my  full  attention  to  the  animated 
little  priest  who  sat  in  the  cabin  with  me.  Fathers  Damien  and 
Conrardy  were  of  Flemish  stock.  This  young  priest  was  French 
from  the  Flemish  border  and  he  appeared  more  Flemish  than 
French.  Still  young  and  fair  of  complexion,  he  resembles  much 
an  American  physician  who  had  been  one  of  my  boyhood 
schoolmates  and  in  adult  years,  until  his  death,  a  kind  friend. 
My  heart  warmed  to  this  young  priest  as  he  glowed  over  his 
difficult  and  apparently  disagreeable  mission,  eulogizing  his 
predecessor  and  speaking  highly  of  all  under  his  care,  a  family 
that  numbers  more  than  twelve  hundred. 

It  took  us  fully  half  an  hour  to  make  the  first  landing,  at  a 
separate  island  reserved  for  leprous  women  and  girls.     Some 

202 


a 
c 


3 
o 


<u 
o 

r 


O 


Pi 


w 

CO 

H 
< 

H 
H 

C/3 

Pi 

1-3 

C/2 

>^ 

Q 

< 
O 

c^ 
H 

o 

Q 
< 

C/) 


H 


3 
D 


yj 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN    THE    ORlEN'l 

soldiers  were  on  duty  here,  near  the  Sisters*  house.  They  had  just 
arrived  for  the  night-watch,  to  give  a  protection  that  is  quite 
necessary  as  the  river  is  pestered  with  pirates.  The  Sisters, 
four  in  number,  belong  to  the  order  founded  at  Montreal  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Immaculate  Conception,  some  of  whose 
members  I  had  already  met  at  Canton.  One  of  the  four,  a 
former  Superioress,  had  stayed  at  Maryknoll.  The  actual 
Superioress  is  related  to  a  well-known  Sulpician  priest  in  Montreal 
who  has  from  the  beginning  been  interested  in  all  that  happens 
at  Maryknoll,  and  I  was  immediately  at  home. 

Our  stay,  however,  was  brief  as  we  planned  to  say  Mass  here 
the  next  morning  and  also  to  inspect  then  this  section  of  the 
settlement.  So  our  leper  rowers  took  up  their  oars  again,  and 
after  another  twenty  minutes  we  had  received  the  salute  of  the 
sentry  on  the  main  island  and  passed  into  the  home  of  my 
companion  and  his  assistant,  a  devoted  Chinese  priest.  It  was 
now  dark,  too  dark  to  see  anything  of  the  lepers,  and  when  the 
oil  lamp  was  lighted  we  sat  down  to  dinner  and  later  to  the 
luxury  of  Filipino  cigars. 

The  little  Chaplain  yielded  his  room  to  me  that  night.  As 
he  would  not  have  it  otherwise  I  was  forced  to  accept — and  I 
made  good  use  of  his  straw  mattress,  a  red  blanket,  and  a 
Chinese  comfortable,  all  serene  under  a  mosquito  net. 

Before  turning  in  I  went  out  on  the  balcony  that  runs 
i  round  three  sides  of  the  house,  a  commodious  one  but  not  too 
V  ell-arranged  for  ordinary  comforts.  Banana  trees  had  been 
planted  near  the  residence  to  give  it  shade,  but  I  could  see 
ough  the  branches  the  lepers'  shacks  and  their  chapel,  only 
a  1  ;w  hundred  feet  away.  I  had  heard'  the  poor  sufferers  reciting 
their  prayers  after  their  own  evening  meal,  but  now  all  was 
sileat  and  dark.  I  wondered  how  many  of  these  hundreds  were 
awake  and,  if  so,  what  were  their  thoughts.  The  river  sparkled 
as  I  looked  out  upon  it.  How  clear  and  pure  it  seemed  under  the 
stars!  And  how  striking  the  contrast  with  the  festering  bodies 
so  near!  And  yet — there  were  many  souls  among  these  hundreds 
cleaner  and  purer  in  God's  sight  than  were  those  passing  running 
waters  to  the  eyes  of  man. 

I  heard  the  measured  step  of  the  sentry  keeping  his  night 

203 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

watch.  And  then  I  remarked  another's  footfall.  It  was  the  little 
Father,  saying  his  rosary  on  the  opposite  balcony. 

When  I  went  back  into  the  room  I  looked  about.  Some 
books  and  letters  on  the  table,  and  a  few  prints  on  the  wall, 
with  a  couple  of  chairs,  a  wardrobe,  and  the  bed,  completed 
the  furnishing.  I  felt  like  an  intruder  but  I  knew  that  I  was 
welcome. 

What  was  my  host  praying  for  that  night?  For  his  lepers, 
doubtless.  For  his  family,  too,  in  all  probability,  because  he 
had  told  me  that  his  parents  still  lived — at  least  he  hoped  that 
such  was  the  case,  but  he  did  not  know  since  the  occupation  of 
his  native  town  by  his  country's  enemy.  Perhaps,  also,  he  was 
praying  for  his  own  perseverance  in  this  everlasting  struggle 
between  nature  and  grace.  Earlier  in  the  evening  he  had  said 
to  me,  "I  must  spend  my  life  here.  For  one  reason,  I  should  not 
be  wanted  elsewhere,  because  I  am  so  closely  identified  with 
lepers  and  leprosy." 

God  bless  and  preserve  the  devoted  young  Chaplain  at 
Sheklung!  And  God  be  merciful  to  the  apostolic  founder  of 
this  really  great  work! 

A  Morning  Among  the  Outcasts. 

It  was  yet  dark  and  quite  cold  when  we  awoke  the  next 
morning.  I  dressed  quickly  and  went  out  on  the  balcony, 
but  the  Chaplain  was  already  ahead  of  me,  pacing  and  making 
his  meditation  preparatory  to  Mass.  As  we  were  leaving  the 
house  he  picked  up  a  blanket  and  at  the  same  time  threw  over 
his  cassock  a  light-colored  jacket  that  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
discarded  by  some  friend  of  the  institution.  The  blanket  was 
for  our  knees,  to  be  used  in  the  sampan,  which  on  this  occasion 
was  a  hired  one  propelled  by  an  old  woman  who,  with  her  pet 
grandson,  kept  house  in  it  habitually.  The  grandson  remained 
asleep  while  we  were  crossing  the  river. 

Mass  was  attended  by  practically  all  the  leprous  women 
and  children,  several  of  whom  received  Holy  Communion.  At 
the  same  hour  on  the  principal  island  Mass  was  being  offered 
for  the  men  by  the  Chinese  priest. 

That  morning  I  visited  in  detail  both  branchesof  the  lazaretto. 

204 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Among  the  women  there  did  not  seem  to  be  many  ugly  cases, 
and  the  general  atmosphere  was  one  of  gayety  rather  than 
sadness.  Some  little  children  played  about  as  if  their  blood  were 
pure  and  life  had  long  years  of  joy  in  store  for  them.  Others 
worked,  even  with  disfigured  hands,  a  few  at  silk  looms,  more 
in  the  ordinary  housekeeping  occupations. 

The  men  were  quartered  in  divisions,  each  division  managing 
its  own  house  and  each  working-patient  receiving  for  his  labor 
in  the  fields  or  elsewhere  a  small  remuneration,  from  which  he 
was  free  to  purchase  tobacco  and  special  articles  of  wear. 

Many,  as  we  passed  about,  were  washing  their  own  sores; 
some  were  ministering  to  others;  and  in  the  dispensary  there 
was  a  line  of  men  and  boys  each  waiting  patiently  his  turn  for  an 
application  and  dressing,  given  under  the  direction  of  a  Sister 
and  her  assistant  who  came  over  every  morning  to  the  men's 
settlement  for  this  particular  service. 

The  scene  was  striking  but,  again,  not  depressing.  God 
tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  and  these  poor  creatures 
are  not  without  their  consolations.  A  few  are  outcasts  from 
well-to-do  families  but  most  of  them  have  never  had  much 
comfort  in  life.  Here  they  are  fed,  clothed,  and  nursed,  with  no 
responsibilities  to  bear.  Their  pains  are  not,  as  a  rule,  intense, 
and  they  do  not  seem  conscious  of  their  misery  or  of  their 
exile.  Relatives  and  friends  are  free  to  visit  them,  but  rarely 
do  so,  and  home  ties  break  quickly  when  one  experiences  such 
lack  of  consideration  from  kith  and  kin.  It  is  true  that  these 
lepers  are  virtually  prisoners,  but  faith  with  God's  grace  makes 
them  free  and  I  really  believe  that  tliere  is  little  unhappiness 
among  them. 

The  Chaplain  at  one  point  presented  a  man  who  had  lived  in 
San  Francisco.  Simply  and  in  fairly  good  English  he  told  me  his 
story.  He  had  contracted  both  leprosy  and  the  opium  habit. 
Arrested,  he  was  sent  to  Sheklung — a  pagan  as  well  as  an  outcast. 
"I  thought,"  he  said,  "that  the  Father  was  hard  not  to  let  me 
have  some  opium,  but  now  I  know  that  he  was  kind.  The 
soldiers  would  have  kept  me  in  a  cell  for  a  long  time  but  the 
Father  had  me  out  in  a  few  days.  He  gives  us  rice  and  clothes 
and  tobacco  and  we  like  him  very  much.     I  wonder  if  I  can  get 

206 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

to  Heaven.  The  Father  has  told  me  all  about  it  and  says  that 
I  can,  but  I  have  been  bad  in  my  life.  I  hope  I  can  go  to  Heaven." 

The  man  spoke  directly  from  his  heart,  and  I  left  him  deeply 
touched  with  his  simple  faith  and  grateful  that  the  charity  of 
Christ  had  fallen  on  these  unfortunates,  practically  all  of  whom 
ask  for  Baptism  and  die  in  the  Faith.  As  we  rowed  by  a  long 
stretch  of  land  when  I  was  leaving  the  little  Chaplain  told  me 
that  there  are  five  hundred  bodies  there.  "It  is  good  to  feel,"  he 
added,  "that  their  souls  were  made  ready  for  God." 

I  was  glad  to  have  seen  Sheklung. 

Visits  in  Canton. 

I  dropped  into  a  Protestant  book-store  one  day  while  in 
Canton.  It  is  on  the  main  street  that  runs  by  the  river  and  not 
far  from  one  of  the  many  gilded  fronts  over  which  appears  in 
bold  letters  and  in  English  the  sign: 

FIRST-CLASS  GAMBLING  HOUSE 

There  were  on  the  shelves  some  useful  books,  and  others,  on 
the  subject  of  "Roman  Catholicism,"  that  had  earmarks  of 
unfriendly  critics.  It  is  a  pity  that  Protestantism  is  so  often 
represented  in  the  mission-field  by  the  type  that  requires  anti- 
Catholic  doses  to  stimulate  what  brain  power  it  possesses. 

And  it  is  a  greater  pity  that  prejudice  is  injected  into  the 
Orientals  who  come  under  the  influence  of  bigoted  so-called 
Christians.  It  does  not  benefit  the  victims  and  I  doubt  much  if 
it  has  any  serious  effect  on  Catholic  propaganda.  However, 
at  times  it  doubles  the  labor  of  the  Catholic  missioner  who,  when 
he  comes  in  contact  with  inquiring  Protestants,  must  destroy 
before  he  can  build.  This  process  results  sometimes,  as  a  compen- 
sation, in  solid  conversions. 

Sunday,  the  thirtieth  of  December,  I  said  Mass  at  the  Little 
Sisters'  Home,  and,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  house 
had  formerly  been  the  residence  of  a  well-to-do  Chinaman  and 
that  all  the  inmates  were  Chinese,  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  back 
in  a  chapel  of  the  Little  Sisters  in  the  United  States,  where  I  had 
offered  the  Holy  Sacrifice  hundreds  of  times.  The  "Good- 
Mother"  was  as  French  as  those  whom  I  had  known  so  well; 
there  were  also  two  Irish  Sisters,  and  the  old  people  looked  as  if 

206 


Father  Conrardy  serving  his  beloved  lepers 


Father  Chau  Father  Deswazieres 

THE   HEROIC   PRIESTS   OF   SHEKLUNG 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


they  might  belong  to  any  nationality.     The  altar  and  sacristy 
were  simple  and  immaculate  as  usual. 

That  afternoon  I  gave  Benediction  at  the  convent,  and  I 
began  to  realize  that  Canton  was  fast  becoming  a  home  for 
Maryknoll  when  the  Sisters  from  their  poverty  offered  us  neces- 
sary articles  of  worship  for  our  first  Mission. 

The  Mary  knoll-in-China  Guide. 

The  next  day  was  marked  by  a  visit  to  Father  Gauthier, 
whom  Bishop  de  Guebriant  has  kindly  appointed  to  guide  our 
first  missioners.  Father  Gauthier  is  a  veteran  missioner.  He 
was  originally  French,  but  is  now  Chinese  to  the  backbone 
and  would  rather  have  a  pair  of  chopsticks  than  a  knife  and  fork, 
a  bowl  of  rice  in  preference  to  a  French  loaf.  He  knows  Yeung- 
kong,  our  future  mission-field,  and  it  has  a  warm  corner  in  his 
heart — so  warm  that,  brusque  man  as  he  is,  I  noticed  when  I 
first  met  him  that  he  wiped  av/ay  a  tear  while  he  was  describing 
to  me  the  present  condition  of  its  Christian  settlements. 

On  Monday  the  Bishop  accompanied  me  to  this  zealous  priest's 
house.  To  reach  it  we  took  one  of  the  thousands  of  sampans 
that  line  the  banks  of  the  Canton  River.  A  woman  and  her 
daughter,  one  at  each  end,  guided  the  bark  safely  to  the  other 
side,  and  not  far  from  the  landing-place  we  soon  found  ourselves 
inside  of  a  small  hired  Chinese  house  where  Father  Gauthier 
keeps  his  simple  bed  and  his  pet  chopsticks. 

After  "chow,"  which  was  eaten  under  the  observation  of 
occasional  visitors,  we  were  escorted  by  an  excellent  Christian 
(a  retired  architect)  to  a  spot  which  the  Bishop  was  anxious 
to  see — the  burial  place  of  several  early  missioners,  members 
of  religious  orders,  whose  names  were  yet  inscribed  upon  a 
stone  that  stood  isolated  on  a  dreary-looking  plot  which  had  the 
appearance  of  a  common  dump.  If  the  graves  can  be  purchased 
the  Bishop  will  doubtless  try  to  safely  enclose  these  precious 
remains  and  keep  them  from  profanation.  Otherwise  an 
attempt  will  probably  be  made  later  to  remove  the  remains 
and  the  stone.  A  small  inquisitive  group  grew  every  moment 
during  our  inspection,  and  when  we  had  finished  we  bared  our 
heads  and  said  aloud  the  De  Profundis,  to  the  further  wonder- 
ment of  the  bystanders. 

207 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

At  Father  Gauthier's  little  chapel,  not  far  distant,  we  re- 
ceived a  courteous  welcome  from  the  catechist  and  his  family, 
among  whom  was  a  newly-arrived  daughter-in-law  who,  clad  for 
the  occasion  in  her  marriage-dress,  made  obeisance  to  the 
Bishop  with  a  dignity  and  a  modesty  that  would  have  befitted 
the  court  of  a  Catholic  king. 

To  Macao. 

I  passed  New  Year's  day  at  Canton  and  spent  a  good  portion 
of  the  morning,  after  a  formal  salutation  of  the  Bishop,  at 
Shameen,  trying  to  get  my  passport  viseed  by  the  Portuguese 
Consul  as  I  was  bound  for  Macao.  Offices  were  tightly  closed 
and  everybody  seemed  to  be  vying  with  his  neighbor  in  extending 
hospitality.  After  dodging  enough  health-wishing  ingredients  to 
make  a  well  man  ill  I  managed  to  get  my  documents  importantly 
sealed  with  a  sprawling  Portuguese  stamp,  and  the  next  day, 
Wednesday,  I  left  by  steamer  for  Macao — a  run  of  about  seven 
hours. 

There  were  very  few  passengers  and  I  was  the  only  white 
man.  An  ambitious  young  Chinese  clad  in  his  best  brocaded 
silk  coat  appeared  friendly  and  I  saluted  him  in  English.  He 
looked  hard  at  me,  smiled,  and  walked  away.  After  three 
minutes  he  returned,  his  face  beaming,  and  said,  "This  is  a 
beautiful  day,"  which  I  admitted.  He  then  gazed  at  me  for  a 
minute  and  took  another  walk.  Five  minutes  later  he  came, 
pointed  to  the  river,  and  said,  "Water."  I  tapped  gently  his 
silken  shoulders  and  answered  "You're  a  wonder!"  which  seemed 
to  please  him  although  he  did  not  understand. 

At  noon  I  was  called  to  tiffin,  and  the  Chinese  youth  sat 
opposite,  to  watch  me  eat  and  to  try  his  luck  at  the  English 
words  for  knife,  fork,  tablecloth,  and  so  forth.  By  this  time  the 
boat  was  dancing  a  little  and  suddenly,  as  I  looked  up,  I  saw  that 
my  friend's  face  was  beginning  to  change  color.  For  his  good — 
and,  I  may  add,  for  my  own — I  insisted  that  a  lying  posture  in 
the  cabin  provided  for  such  comfort  would  be  a  wise  precaution. 
I  did  not  see  him  again. 

At  Macao  I  found  on  the  wharf  several  Portuguese  priests  who 
spoke  English  very  well.  They  included  the  Vicar-General  and 
the  Bishop's  secretary,  with  a  professor  from  the  Seminary,  and 

208 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

it  was  arranged  that  I  should  pay  my  respects  at  once  to  the 
Bishop  and  then  spend  the  night  at  the  Seminary. 

Macao  is  quite  deUghtful,  but  it  is  rather  a  bit  of  Portugal 
invaded  by  Chinese  than  a  pagan  city  in  the  Orient  with  a 
negligible  group  of  Catholics  in  one  spot.  Macao  is  an  island 
owned  by  Portugal  these  many  years  and  rich  in  substantial 
churches  with  silver-faced  altars  and  valuable  furnishings. 
The  Macaoists  are  descendants  of  Portuguese,  in  whom  there  is 
frequently  a  mixture  of  the  Asiatic.  Full-blooded  Chinese 
Catholics  also  are  in  Macao,  ministered  to  by  Chinese  priests. 

Bishop  de  Azevedo  e  Castro  was  most  gracious  and  showed 
special  interest  in  our  new  Mission,  into  which  happens  to  be 
wedged  a  portion  of  his  own  vicariate  which  separates  the  two 
districts  where  we  hope  to  send  our  men.  He  smiled  an  acqui- 
escence when  I  told  him  that  we  desired  the  privilege  of  occasion- 
ally walking  across  this  strip  of  territory. 

The  Seminary  at  Macao,  where  I  spent  the  night,  is  a  very 
extensive  building  that  houses  not  only  seminarians,  who  are 
few  in  number,  but  students  of  earlier  age  preparing  for  various 
walks  in  life.  I  did  not  meet  many  of  the  students,  as  they  were 
on  their  holidays.  The  professors  are  bright  and,  as  a  rule, 
comparatively  young.  Many  of  them  speak  English,  which 
is  taught  in  the  school  as  the  language  is  in  quite  common  use 
by  Macaoists  who  may  be  found  all  along  the  coast  of  Eastern 
Asia. 

As  my  stay  in  Macao  was  to  be  short,  the  Vicar-General  took 
me  under  his  guidance  the  next  morning  and,  with  the  aid  of 
rickshaws  supplemented  by  an  automobile,  I  saw  the  greater 
part  of  the  settlement,  including  several  churches  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Salesian  Fathers,  who  are  developing  here  an 
industrial  school. 

The  Bishop  of  Macao  has  a  rather  unusual  field.  Besides 
Macao  and  other  islands  occupied  by  Portuguese  or  their  de- 
scendants he  has  spiritual  jurisdiction  over  the  field  just  men- 
tioned in  China,  for  the  cultivation  of  which  he  has  been  obliged 
to  secure,  in  addition  to  his  secular  priests,  Jesuits  and  Salesians. 
Priests  from  Macao  also  give  occasional  retreats  to  the  Portuguese- 
speaking  in  the  larger  cities  of  the  Far  East. 

209 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XIV 

maryknoll's  first  mission 

VERY  day  two  steamers  run  from  Macao  to 
Hongkong.  Mine  left  early  Thursday  afternoon, 
the  third,  and  I  found  a  corner  near  a  group  of 
Macaoists  and  Chinese,  who  grew  more  quiet 
as  the  steamer's  movement  developed. 

I  arrived  at  the  Paris  Procure  in  time  for  the 
evening  meal,  which  was  interrupted  by  a  messenger 
who  came  to  tell  Father  Robert  that  the  city  of  Canton  was 
being  bombarded  by  General  Lung.  The  news  seemed  alarming, 
but  with  long  experience  Father  Robert  was  not  inclined  to 
take  it  too  seriously.  However,  there  are  always  possibilities 
and  we  realized  that  the  beautiful  church,  with  the  good  Bishop 
and  faithful  priests,  is  not  far  from  the  water-line  at  Canton. 

I  too,  was  anxious,  as  my  program  called  for  a  return  trip 
to  Canton  on  Sunday.  In  the  meantime  I  was  nursing  a  heavy 
cold  and  had  to  look  forward  to  a  "Prayer  for  Peace"  sermon  to 
be  preached  in  Hongkong  by  royal  request  on  Sunday  itself, 
which  coincided  with  the  Feast  of  the  Epiphany. 

We  learned  by  the  papers  next  morning  that  no  great  damage 
had  been  done  at  Canton,  that  the  Cantonese  had  been  "too 
proud"  to  return  fire,  and  that  the  attacking  squadron  had 
withdrawn. 

I  managed  to  pull  through  at  the  Cathedral  and  St.  Joseph's 
on  Sunday,  and  after  an  Epiphany  dinner  at  the  Procure,  where 
I  met  again  the  Bishop  and  his  priests  and  the  several  other 
Catholic  mission  Procurators  of  Hongkong,  I  took  a  train  for 
Canton,  arriving  a  little  late,  but  at  a  reasonable  hour. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Monday,  January  7,  Father  Gau- 
thier  and  I,  accompanied  by  a  domestic  loaded  with  bedding 
and  our  two  bags,  started  out  for  our  first  missionary  journey 
in  the  new  Maryknoll  Mission-field.  It  was  a  memorable 
experience,  at  least  for  my  poor  self  who,  during  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  had  been  coddled  as  a  priest  in  civilized  lands. 

We  swung  quietly  into  the  alley  streets  of  Canton  and  I 
followed   the  long  strides  of   Father  Gauthier,   not  knowing 

210 


O 


o 


OBSERVATIONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

where  or  how  we  were  to  travel,  and  whispering  to  myself  in 
a  very  husky  voice,  "I  don't  know  where  I'm  going  but  I'm 
on  my  way." 

Suddenly  we  emerged  into  the  broad  street  that  lines  the 
river  bank;  then,  dodging  rickshaws,  chairs,  coolies,  and  dogs, 
I  managed  to  keep  Father  Gauthier  in  view  until  he  disappeared 
in  a  side  alley.  I  looked  down  the  centre,  then  to  right  and  left, 
but  there  was  no  trace  of  the  black  cassock  or  the  shovel  hat  or 
the  goatee.  Then  I  realized  that  we  were  at  a  railway  office, 
and  our  next  move,  a  quick  one,  was  across  the  crowded  thorough- 
fare, up  a  gangplank  to  a  steamer,  just  as  it  was  about  to  leave. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour's  sail  brought  us  to  a  very  respectable 
railway  terminal,  and  we  were  soon  on  our  way  to  the  end  of  the 
line,  only  a  few  hours  distant.  The  line  seemed  to  end  in  a  wilder- 
ness but  this  does  not  mean  that  there  was  no  one  to  meet 
us.  Coolies  again,  innumerable,  women  and  girls,  men  and  boys, 
all  crying  at  us,  each  trying  to  gain  attention! 

Father  Gauthier  engaged  a  man  to  relieve  our  young  domestic, 
whom  we  call  Chin  for  short.  Chin  is  the  "last  word"  in  his 
own  line.  He  has  the  honorable  position  of  Boy  A^o.  i  to  the 
household  of  a  Chinese  parish  priest  and  with  his  best  tire, 
white  socks,  and  leather  shoes  he  had  been  loaned  to  us  for  the 
journey. 

Chin  released  his  load  and  looked  down  with  an  air  of  superi- 
ority on  the  lowly  being  who  was  arranging  a  bamboo  pole  so 
as  to  balance  the  bedding  with  our  bags,  and  in  a  moment  we 
were  following  a  chattering  crowd  over  a  road-less  waste  towards 
a  walled  city,  about  half  a  mile  to  the  east.  This  is  Samshui, 
a  not  over-clean  collection  of  Chinese  alleys,  which  we  hastened 
through  until  we  reached  a  maze  of  floating  homes,  that 
have  neither  street  nor  number  but  manage  to  keep  on 
the  surface  of  the  West  River.  Then,  after  our  baggage 
and  ourselves  had  been  deposited  in  a  sampan,  there 
was  a  wrangle.  Father  Gauthier  and  a  Chinese  matron  were 
the  active  participants  and  the  "Chink"  language  went  flying 
in  chunks  from  both  sides,  to  the  delight  of  a  half-hundred  sampan 
idlers.  It  was  all  about  a  couple  of  cents,  and  is  not  at  all  an 
unusual   occurrence.     My  companion   later   assured    me    that 

211 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

neither  side  was  angry,  that  he  did  not  mind  losing  a  few  coppers, 
but  that  he  wished  to  protect  the  next  white  man — who  might 
be  himself. 

Finally  we  got  away  and  were  sculled  into  the  heart  of  a 
veritable  flotilla  of  sampans,  all  bound  for  the  steamer  that  lay 
anchored  in  dignity,  awaiting  the  usual  avalanche  of  passengers 
whose  combined  coins  make  possible  the  service  here.  We  chop- 
stuck  our  chow  on  this  steamer  in  company  with  an  insurance 
agent,  who,  after  smiling  several  times,  informed  me  that  we 
had  traveled  together  the  previous  day  from  Hongkong.  This 
gentleman,  like  all  of  his  race,  had  many  questions  to  ask,  but 
he  kept  off  his  own  line  of  business  and  was  very  agreeable. 

The  Half -Way  House. 

Shiuhing,  about  fifty  miles  up  the  river  from  Samshui,  was 
our  immediate  objective  and  we  reached  it  towards  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon.  A  walk  of  fifteen  minutes,  through  more  dark, 
damp,  and  crowded  alleys,  brought  us  to  the  Mission  occupied 
by  the  Jesuits,  who  recently  purchased  a  large  tract  of  land  which 
will  before  many  years  be  very  attractive  and  useful.  The  priests 
here,  with  the  exception  of  one  Chinese  (a  bright  young  man 
who  has  studied  in  Europe  and  speaks  Italian,  Portuguese,  and 
French),  and  one  Spaniard,  are  Portuguese,  all  working  under 
the  direction  of  the  Bishop  of  Macao.  The  house,  designed  to 
serve  later  as  a  home  for  the  domestics,  is  small,  but  hospitality 
was  freely  extended  to  us  and  we  prepared  to  spend  the  night 
at  this  quiet  and  well-ordered  spot. 

It  was  not  to  be,  however.  We  were  on  our  way  to  our  own 
Mission,  and  the  boat  that  we  should  take  might  leave  at  any 
moment  in  the  very  early  morning.  Nobody  seemed  able  to 
give  definite  information  and  it  was  decided  to  send  out  a  com- 
mittee of  inquiry  while  Father  Lucas,  a  former  Superior  here, 
who  speaks  English  very  well,  would  take  me  for  a  visit  to 
the  Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Mary. 

On  the  way  to  the  convent  Father  Lucas  took  me  into  a  few 
shops  to  give  me  an  idea  of  local  industries.  Most  interesting 
was  some  delicate  work  in  a  very  beautiful  marble,  which,  if 
superstition  could  be  abolished  and  enterprise  cultivated,  could 

212 


I.    Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Marj'  at  Shiuhing 
2.   Father  Gauthier  with  our  Jesuit  hosts  3.   A  river-landing  of  stone  steps 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

be  quarried  with  excellent  returns.  As  it  is,  I  was  told  that  it 
is  very  difficult  to  secure  even  small  blocks  of  this  marble  from 
the  mountains,  which  the  people  look  upon  as  sacred. 

At  the  convent  was  a  small  group  of  Sisters,  including 
two  Irish  nuns,  one  of  whom  is  the  Superior.  They  are 
struggling  at  the  beginning  of  their  work,  which  is  hampered 
for  lack  of  sufficient  house  accommodation.  The  grounds  seem 
ample. 

The  Jesuits,  too,  lack  means  in  Shiuhing,  where  they  are 
anxious  to  establish  a  good  school. 

As  we  re-entered  the  grounds  Father  Lucas  turned  to  a  small 
group  of  Chinese  that  had  for  me  a  very  special  interest.  They 
were  refugees  from  the  village  in  Tungon,  our  new  Mission, 
which  we  had  planned  to  visit  the  next  day,  and  the  oldest  of 
them  had  barely  escaped  death  at  the  hands  of  the  bandits  who 
had  burned  their  homes.  The  name  of  the  oldest  was  John  Taam, 
oriAh-man.  The  others  were  Simon  Taam  and  A-mo  Taam.  I 
noted  these  names  as  historical.  The  three  were,  as  I  afterwards 
learned  from  Father  Gauthier,  in  the  seventh  heaven  at  the 
prospect  of  returning,  and  especially  at  the  thought  that  their 
village  was  again  to  have  at  least  the  occasional  visit  of  a  priest. 

It  was  arranged  that  all  three  should  accompany  us,  and 
Ah-man,  a  faithful,  intelligent  Chinaman,  was  specially  detailed 
to  get  a  further  report  of  the  sailing-time  and  of  our  accommo- 
dation for  the  night.  Our  committee  had  reported  that  it 
would  not  be  advisable  to  sleep  at  the  Mission  because  we  should 
perhaps  lose  the  boat. 

The  next  choice  was  between  a  noisy  hotel  at  the  water's 
edge,  where  we  could  be  roused  by  the  boat's  whistle,  or  the 
boat  itself  which,  so  far  as  anybody  knew,  was  not  provided  with 
staterooms.  The  prospect,  I  confess,  was  hardly  cheerful. 
I  was  not  at  all  in  fine  fettle  and  did  not  relish  sitting  up  all 
night,  so  that  it  was  quite  a  relief  when  Ah-man  returned  with 
the  news  that  he  had  secured  for  Father  Gauthier  and  myself 
a  stateroom  which  we  were  free  to  occupy  about  eight-thirty  that 
evening.  Everybody  seemed  to  think  that  we  were  fortunate, 
and  I  had  visions  of  a  small  river  steamboat  such  as  I  had 
used  quite  restfully  on  the  waters  of  Chekiang. 

213 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

A   Night  on  a  Junk. 

At  eight  o'clock  we  left  the  Jesuit  Mission,  walked  with 
beds  and  bags  toward  the  boat,  and  found  the  city  gate  closed 
for  the  night,  with  a  group  of  Chinese  soldiers  on  guard.  After 
some  parleying  with  Father  Gauthier,  the  soldiers  allowed  the 
travelers  to  pass,  but  the  good  Jesuit  Fathers  were  sent  home 
and  I  was  soon  disposed  to  envy  them. 

Ah-man  led  us  triumphantly  to  the  boat.  All  that  I  could 
see  in  the  dark  was  something  of  a  scow,  from  which  we  passed 
to  another  ungraceful  and  formless  craft.  Suddenly  I  lost  sight 
of  the  group  for  a  moment  and  took  a  flight  of  steps  that  led  me 
on  to  a  deck  filled  with  junk.  Some  Chinese  discovered  me  and 
tried  to  explain  that  I  belonged  on  another  boat,  but  I  clung  to 
my  base  and  pretty  soon  Ah-man  the  faithful  turned  up  to  guide 
me  to  his  "find."  It  was  a  scene  that  remains  still  vivid  in  my 
memory — a  saloon  (!)  about  twelve  by  twelve,  a  table  literally 
piled  with  dominoes,  with  some  twenty  Chinamen  engaged  in  or 
watching  the  game.  An  oil  lamp  over  the  table  and  a  pagan 
shrine  with  burning  joss-sticks  set  up  in  the  place  of  honor  vied 
with  water-pipes  and  cigarettes  in  keeping  the  place  dense  with 
smoke. 

Father  Gauthier  and  I  were,  of  course,  the  only  gentlemen  of 
our  complexion  on  that  boat,  but  Chin  by  this  time  had  assumed 
a  role  of  importance  and  as  I  elbowed  my  way  through  the  crowd 
he  held  open  the  door  of  the  stateroom  which  was  directly  i  off 
the  saloon  (!).  There  were  four  wide  shelves  in  it,  and  a  tiny 
window  tightly  closed.  A  small  lamp  completed  the  furnishings. 
My  throat  was  parched  and  gave  me  a  good  excuse  to  get 
everybody  busy  on  the  window,  which  finally  yielded.  By  this 
time  we  had  distracted  the  gamblers,  who  resumed  operations 
after  Father  Gauthier  had  spun  a  little  home-made  Chinese 
for  their  benefit. 

I  climbed  onto  the  upper  shelf  that  night,  hoping  to  live 
through  it,  if  I  could  not  sleep.  Recollections  of  bandit  attacks 
did  not  worry  me  but  we  took  precautions  with  the  few  valuables 
that  we  carried,  the  more  so  as  there  was  no  lock  on  our  door. 
Just  outside  was  Ah-man  and  I  knew  that  he  was  watching, 
but  about  an  hour  later,  after  we  had  buried  ourselves  in  the 

214 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Chinese  comfortable,  I  felt  a  hand  at  my  head.  It  was  only 
Chin,  who  came  in  to  try  his  luck  at  fastening  the  door  and, 
incidentally,  to  occupy  the  lower  berth. 

The  gamblers  continued  their  game  until  long  after  midnight 
and  the  boat  was  still  anchored  at  six  o'clock  the  next  morning. 
Then  I  perceived  that  we  were  moving,  but  very  gently,  without 
a  vibration,  and  as  it  was  dawn  I  got  up  to  reconnoitre.  We 
were  being  towed,  and  I  found  that  the  "steamer"  which  I 
thought  we  had  been  occupyingwasa  great  gaudily-painted  barge, 
such  as  I  had  more  than  once  laughed  at  in  Canton  with  never 
a  suspicion  that  something  similar  would  one  day  serve  me  as 
a  hotel. 

In  only  a  few  hours  we  were  opposite  our  landing  place,  a 
village  called  Utsing.  Just  what  was  to  happen  after  that  I 
did  not  know,  because  even  from  friends  over  here  exact  informa- 
tion isimpossible  to  obtain.  A  "short  distance"  may  mean  half 
a  mile,  or  it  may  mean  ten  miles;  "alongside"  may  mean  hours 
away;  "soon"  often  means  a  day.  I  had  simply  got  into  the 
mood  that  I  must  see  it  through,  but  I  was  curious  enough,  as 
we  stepped  into  a  sampan  from  the  barge,  to  ask  why  we  should 
go  to  Utsing  on  the  west  side  of  the  river  when  we  were  to 
travel  by  land  on  the  east  side. 

Pere  Gauthier  looked  astonished  at  my  stupidity  and  an- 
swered that  of  course  we  must  go  to  the  west  side  so  as  to  take 
another  sampan  to  the  east  side.  So  there  you  are,  and  there 
were  we — losing  time,  with  a  long  tramp  ahead  of  us.  I  dis- 
covered another  reason,  however,  after  landing.  We  were  on 
our  way  to  a  "foodless  town,"  none  of  us  had  breakfasted,  and 
we  should  naturally  require  food  after  Mass,  which  would  not 
be  over  until  eleven  o'clock  at  the  earliest. 

A  Burnt  Village. 

Crossing  the  river  against  the  stream  was  slow  work  but  in 
spite  of  my  condition  it  was  a  pleasant  sensation  to  step  for  the 
first  time  on  MaryknoH's  own  "field  afar,"  and  I  was  charmed 
as  we  set  out  at  a  brisk  walk  in  the  cool  air  of  the  morning  and 
plunged  into  the  hills.  The  valleys  were  rich  in  rice-paddies 
and  the  green  of  a  spring  day  at  home  made  me  feel  that  there 

215 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

were  compensations  even  natural  in  this  remote  country.  I 
knew,  however,  that  I  was  not  experiencing  the  heat  that  would 
fall  often  in  the  future  on  the  white-helmeted  heads  of  our 
young  apostles,  about  whom  I  thought  much  as  we  made  that 
first  journey. 

We  passed  several  small  settlements  in  the  course  of  the 
morning  but  met  no  Catholics  until  shortly  before  noon,  when 
we  came  to  the  village  into  which  several  of  our  Catholics 
had  fled  after  the  burning  of  their  houses.  They  were  evidently 
glad  to  see  Father  Gauthier,  but  they  looked  sad  because  they 
had  suffered  much  and  were  even  then  in  want.  We  could  not 
halt,  however,  as  we  were  anxious  to  begin  Mass  before  noon, 
and  we  went  on  briskly  to  the  burnt  village. 

As  we  followed  a  path  around  the  mountain  we  suddenly 
came  on  a  scene  of  desolation.  A  long  rov/  of  houses — some 
thirty  or  forty — were  standing  roofless  and  in  ruins,  looking  down 
on  the  rice-fields  that  had  been  the  treasures  of  their  occupants. 
At  right  angles  was  another  ruin — the  source  of  spiritual  life  for 
these  villagers,  all  of  whom  were  Christians.  It  was  a  combina- 
tion of  church  and  priest's  house,  a  pretty  little  building*  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross  which  yet  stood  on  the  half-open  roof.  Into 
the  chapel  we  went  first  and  hastily  brushed  the  fragments 
of  brick  and  plaster  from  the  altar.  It  was  damp  and  cold  and 
we  were  perspiring.  By  this  time  my  throat  was  in  a  rather 
painful  condition  and  as  I  felt  feverish  I  went  out  into  the  sun 
until  everything  was  prepared,  when,  with  overcoat  on,  I  vested 
and  offered  the  Holy  Sacrifice  for  these  suffering  Christians 
and  for  our  future  missioners. 

A  score  or  more  of  the  faithful  had  followed  us  from  the  neigh- 
boring village  and  several  attended  our  Masses,  while  others 
busied  themselves,  like  Martha,  preparing  breakfast  for  the 
travelers.  I  recall  especially  two  little  children  with  hands 
clasped,  kneeling  quite  close  to  the  altar  on  the  broken  floor  of 
concrete. 

Breakfast  was  welcome  and  I  managed  to  have  it  served 
al  fresco  in  the  sun,  in  preference  to  the  ruined  dining-room  which 
was  dark  and  damp.  This  move  was  appreciated  by  the  people, 
who  could  watch  us  eat  our  rice.    My  appetite  was  not  too  good 

21j6 


'  Tlie  little  river  at  least  seemed  friendly  and  we  cross''d  it  fully  a  dozen  times."     {p.  21S) 


'We  icere charmed  as  we  set  out  at  a  brisk  walk  in  the  cool  air  of  the  morning 
and  pinniped  into  the  hills."     {p.  215  ) 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


but  I  consoled  myself  with  the  reflection  that  there  would  be  a 
little  more  left  for  some  of  the  hungry  bystanders,  who,  I 
noticed,  managed  to  come  in  occasionally  for  a  bowl  of  the 
white  grain. 

As  we  were  inspecting  the  ruins  after  breakfast  a  poor 
woman  pointed  to  her  own  home  and  told  Father  Gauthier  her 
list  of  losses.  Another,  a  young  mother  holding  her  little  girl 
by  the  hand,  had  been  watching  us  silently.  I  had  noticed 
the  child  and  had  tried  to  get  her  photograph  at  a  good  moment. 
Suddenly,  as  if  acting  under  impulse,  the  mother  offered  to  us 
the  little  girl,  to  be  handed  over  to  the  Sisters  in  Canton  or 
elsewhere  because  she  could  not  find  rice  for  both,  as  her  father- 
in-law  as  well  as  her  husband  had  been  killed. 

While  Father  Gauthier  interpreted  her  remarks  he  called  my 
attention  to  seven  bodies,  coffined  and  wrapped  in  mattings, 
high  on  the  hill  before  us.  All  had  been  killed  at  the  time  of  the 
attack  and  among  them  were  the  two  relatives  of  the  unhappy 
young  mother,  who,  realizing  the  possible  separation  from 
her  child,  had  turned  her  face  to  the  ruined  wall  and  was 
weeping. 

I  expressed  a  willingness  to  secure  the  upkeep  of  this  child 
so  that  later  she  could  be  returned  to  her  mother,  and  to  this 
Father  Gauthier  agreed,  but  when  it  came  to  an  expressed 
desire  on  my  part  to  leave  some  money  for  rice  he  assured  me 
that  such  passing  help  would  be  practically  impossible.  I  should 
feed  all  or  none,  and  ther^  was  not  enough  in  my  purse  for  all. 
Later  we  arranged  with  Ah-man  to  provide  some  necessaries 
for  the  young  mother  and  her  child. 

In  the  Mountains. 

It  was  time  to  start,  and  on  this  new  leg  of  the  journey  we 
were  to  have  a  chair,  the  only  possible  means  of  conveyance. 
I  felt  grateful  for  this  assistance,  because  we  had  yet  a  three- 
hours'  tramp  ahead.  We  could  change  places  occasionally, 
and  walk  from  time  to  time,  so  as  to  give  relief  to  the 
bearers. 

The  Christians  gathered  silently  about  us  to  say  good-bye 
and  the  bearers  stood  beside  their  faded  chair,  into  which  I 

217 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

entered.  Then  two  pairs  of  sturdy  shoulders  bent  to  get  under 
the  long  bamboo  rods,  and — something  happened !  I  was  lifted 
two  or  three  inches  from  the  ground,  deposited  again  slowly, 
and  my  bearers  rose  to  the  perpendicular  without  me.  They 
looked  calm,  but  Father  Gauthier,  quite  disgusted,  simply  said, 
"They  won't  go.  You  are  too  heavy."  The  blow  was  a  sad 
one  and  something  of  a  surprise  as  my  cincture  had  been  getting 
loose  for  some  time.  Later,  however,  I  was  disposed  to  congrat- 
ulate the  youths  on  their  prudence. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  "hit  the  trail"  and,  with  Ah-man 
in  the  lead  and  always  smiling  under  his  load,  we  started  off  at 
a  good  pace.  Fortunately  the  air  was  bracing  and  the  path 
fairly  level  for  at  least  half  of  the  distance.  We  passed  through 
two  large  villages  full  of  pagans,  who  looked  at  us  with  silent 
curiosity  and  whose  dogs  barked  at  our  heels  until  we  were  well 
out  of  their  settlement.  Temples  dedicated  to  ancestors  stood 
guard  over  these  villages  and  long  stretches  of  rice-fields  on  either 
side  of  a  winding  river  made  the  valley  a  pleasing  and  peaceful 
scene. 

The  little  river  at  least  seemed  friendly,  and  we  crossed 
it  fully  a  dozen  times,  losing  it  often.  Whenever  it  was  necessary 
to  cross  on  a  single  log  Chin  guided  me  with  his  hand  on  my 
shoulder,  and  in  one  or  tv/o  crossings,  as  I  realized  that  the 
"middle  of  the  bridge  is  (only)  half  way  over,"  I  did  not  feel  too 
safe. 

At  other  moments,  however,  the  splash  of  clear  torrents 
recalled  restful  days  in  America  and  in  the  Tyrol,  until  I  thirsted 
after  running  waters  and  longed  for  a  plunge.  As  these  notions 
fastened  themselves  on  me  I  made  inquiries  and  found  that  the 
water  would  be  safe  enough  to  drink  but  I  must  find  a  way  to 
lap  it,  as  our  baggage  included  no  drinking  utensils.  After 
that,  at  every  opportunity,  I  scooped  a  handful  of  this  gift 
of  God  and  cooled  my  throat.  When  it  came  to  a  bath  the 
problem  was  too  great  to  be  thought  of.  It  would  require  many 
explanations.  Finally  I  managed  to  get  at  the  end  of  the  pro- 
cession, and  when  we  came  to  the  next  convenient  place  I 
pulled  off  shoes  and  stockings,  sat  on  a  rock,  and  let  the  waters 
course  by  my  feet.    Before  Chin  could  recover  his  surprise  I  was 

218 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

on  the  march  again,  with  the  blood  tingling  towards  my  toes 
and  my  throat  somewhat  relieved. 

We  were  now  climbing  into  the  heart  of  mountains  bare  but 
majestic.  The  path  led  along  unprotected  cliffs  and  at  times 
was  decidedly  rough,  so  much  so  that  I  forgave  completely  the 
chair-bearers  who  had  refused  to  carry  me. 

It  was  growing  dusk  and  at  every  turn  I  expected  to  see  some 
sign  that  our  destination  had  been  sighted,  but  the  way  seemed 
endless.  As  usual,  I  was  wondering  what  was  ahead  of  us, 
but  all  I  knew  was  that  we  were  going  to  spend  that  night  in  the 
house  of  a  Christian.  At  one  point  we  lost  Father  Gauthier 
and  Ah-man  and  there  was  a  hesitation  between  two  paths  that 
made  me  feel  somewhat  uneasy,  but  the  choice  was  luckily  right. 
There  is  an  end  to  every  journey,  however,  and  shortly  after  six 
o'clock  we  sighted  a  small  group  of  buildings  on  the  side  of  the 
mountain  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  When  we  reached 
them  Father  Gauthier  was  already  quite  at  home  and  smiling  a 
welcome. 

The  poor  Christians — and  they  were  evidently  poor,  the 
children  being  actually  in  rags — were  also  glad  to  see  us,  al- 
though they  were  utterly  unprepared  for  our  coming.  I  was 
ushered  into  a  courtyard  where  already  a  fire  of  fagots  and  dried 
leaves  had  been  started,  and  for  lack  of  a  better  place  I  sat 
down  on  a  bench  under  the  skies.  Fortunately  there  was  yet 
enough  light  to  finish  the  breviary,  and  then,  at  Father  Gauthier's 
suggestion,  I  climbed  a  ladder  to  a  loft  where  two  plank  beds 
were  installed  and,  wrapping  myself  in  the  comfortable,  fell 
asleep. 

An  hour  later  I  awoke  to  find  a  table  set  beside  me  with 
rice,  the  side  dishes,  and  chopsticks,  and  Father  Gauthier  ready 
to  join  in  the  evening  meal.  Our  host  was  most  solicitous  and 
I  did  my  best  under  the  circumstances,  but  it  was  getting  cold 
and  I  wanted  to  duck  as  quickly  as  possible  under  the  blanket 
because  the  loft  had  no  window  protection  and  the  chinks  were 
many  as  well  as  large.  I  wore  a  cap  that  night  and  recall  hearing 
the  Christians  chanting  their  prayers. 

We  were  supposed  to  rise  the  next  morning  soon  after  five 
o'clock,  so  as  to  finish  Masses  and  breakfast  before  starting 

219 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

on  our  return  walk.  Father  Gauthier,  veteran  missioner  that  he 
is,  is  a  walking  alarm  clock  and  at  five  to  the  second  he  was  up. 
But  no  one  else  stirred  until  my  companion  began  to  call  in  a 
loud  voice,  "Ah-man!" — "Chin!" — and  other  names. 

Gradually  the  cold  dark  place  came  to  life  and  to  something 
of  light.  When  I  went  down  the  ladder  Father  Gauthier  was 
hearing  the  confessions  of  those  who  had  not  been  at  the  hamlet 
the  night  before  and  I  vested  for  Mass  in  the  chapel,  which, 
except  for  the  poor  altar  and  a  pious  chromo,  resembled  an 
unoccupied  cellar. 

By  the  time  that  Father  Gauthier's  Mass  began  a  small 
congregation  had  gathered,  many  of  whom  received  Holy 
Communion.  I  was  obliged  to  retreat  after  my  own  Mass  to  the 
loft,  where,  a  little  later,  our  good  host  brought  me  a  steaming 
bowl  of  vermicelli  and  another  of  rice,  with  the  usual  chopsticks 
and  smile.    All  were  welcome  and  I  relished  the  meal. 

As  we  were  leaving  the  courtyard  a  half-hour  later  Father 
Gauthier  showed  me  a  gate  which  had  been  broken  not  many 
months  before  by  some  bandits  who  had  come  around  to  take 
from  the  poverty  of  these  peasants  whatever  was  of  value.  Poor 
China!  full  of  simple  kindly  people  who  are  pestered  by  crews  of 
bandits  because  the  present  Government  is  too  weak,  or  rather, 
because  China  is  practically  without  a  government! 

Catching  a  Steamer. 

We  were  due  to  reach  the  West  River  by  noon  and  it  was 
eight  o'clock  when  we  left  the  hamlet.  "If  we  miss  that  boat?" 
I  asked  myself — and  the  thought  of  the  consequences  spurred  me 
on.  I  managed  to  get  in  more  handfuls  of  water  on  the  way  and 
a  foot-bath  also,  supplementing  this  relief  by  the  juice  of  some 
Chinese  grapefruit  purchased  in  passing  through  one  of  the 
villages. 

We  arrived  at  the  bank  of  the  West  River  a  few  minutes 
before  noon  and  entered  a  sampan  to  await  the  steamer,  which 
came  along  in  another  hour. 

This  ark,  propelled  by  its  own  power,  had  no  guard-rail 
on  its  main  deck  and  gave  every  opportunity  to  its  passengers  to 
walk  overboard.     A  deck  promenade  was  out  of  the  question, 

220 


A   STREET   IN   OLD    CHINA,   WHERE   SANITATION   IS   UNKNOWN 


fl^ 


OBSERV  AT  I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

even  had  we  been  so  inclined,  and  besides,  it  was  time  for  lunch. 
So  we  climbed  a  few  steps  and  entered  the  saloon. 

There  are  two  classes  on  these  boats,  the  first  or  third  and 
the  steerage.  This  was  a  first  or  third  class  saloon,  where  Chinese 
men  in  stuffed  cotton  or  embroidered  silks  can  find  room  for 
their  legs  and  their  baggage  (usually  a  no  inconsiderable  space- 
filler).  Father  Gauthier  and  I  took  our  places  on  the  reclining 
bench  nearest  the  serving-table,  and  gave  an  exhibition  of  food- 
transportation  for  the  benefit  of  a  large  circle  of  interested 
spectators.  I  knew  that  my  companion  was  ashamed  of  my 
efforts,  and  that  I  was  "losing  face"  as  well  as  eatables,  but  I 
could  not  help  it.  My  fingers  were  weak,  and  with  chop  sticks 
thin  and  slippery  I  cut  a  'sorry  figure  as  a  model  of  Chinese  table 
etiquette.  "What  are  i  ey  thinking  about?"  I  asked  at  one 
point,  as  I  laid  aside  the  instruments  of  torture  and  looked  at 
the  sphinxes  about  me.  "They  are  laughing  in  their  sleeves," 
he  answered,  "at  your  awkwardness."  And  I  smiled  as  I 
thought  how  the  tables  turn  in  this  life. 

The  Jesuit  Fathers  welcomed  us  again  at  Shiuhing,  where  I 
had  an  opportunity  to  remove  several  days'  growth  of  beard  and 
we  went  into  another  consultation  about  the  next  move.  It  was 
Wednesday  night  and  I  had  engaged  passage  for  the  Philippines 
on  the  weekly  boat  sailing  Friday  from  Hongkong. 

I  could  sleep  that  night  at  the  Mission  and  leave  (if  in  luck) 
very  early  the  next  morning,  or  I  could  take  the  "great  steamer" 
from  Wuchow,  due  to  stop  that  night  at  eleven  o'clock  at 
Shiuhing  on  its  way  through  to  Hongkong.  This  latter  arrange- 
ment seemed  easy,  especially  when  I  learned  that  at  the  water's 
edge  there  was  a  large  sampan  expressly  reserved  for  waiting 
passengers;  and  it  was  decided  that  I  should  go  on  directly  to 
Hongkong,  leaving  Father  Gauthier  to  rest  at  Shiuhing  and  to 
return  the  next  day  to  Canton.  Again  that  night  the  guards 
held  us  up  at  the  city  gate  but  when  assured  that  I  had  a  passport 
they  let  me  squeeze  through  with  Ah-man,  who  had  been 
thoughtfully  assigned  to  stay  with  me  until  the  "great  steamer" 
should  arrive. 

The  waiting  sampan  was  unusually  large  and  its  family  had 
evidently  retired  for  the  night  in  its  protected  quarters,  leaving 

221 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  open  deck  for  a  group  of  expectant  travelers,  Chinese  men 
and  boys,  some  of  whom  were  smoking  their  water-pipes  and 
others  dozing  at  full  length  on  the  boards. 

Ah-man  spread  a  blanket  for  me  over  the  only  space  left,  and 
covering  my  knees  with  its  folds,  I  backed  up  against  the  family 
partition  and  settled  down  to  wait  for  the  whistle  that  might 
be  heard  in  an  hour.  It  was  then  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  the 
steamer  arrived — at  three  the  next  morning. 

By  this  time  I  was  at  full  length  on  the  deck  and  half- 
awake,  while  Ah-man  was  "snug  as  a'  bug  in  a  rug,"  evidently 
in  deep  slumber.  But  the  master  of  the  barge  had  only  one 
word  to  utter  and  Ah-man  was  at  my  side,  folding  the  blanket 
which  had  served  its  purpose  well.  As  our  barge  left  its  moorings 
another  ark  bumped  into  us  with  a  crash  that  looked  serious, 
but  we  slipped  away;  and  then,  to  my  surprise,  I  noticed  that  no 
fewer  than  a  dozen  boats,  all  full  of  passengers,  were  moving 
with  us. 

We  all  made  for  the  centre  of  the  river  where  the  "great 
steamer"  was  already  anchored,  and  ten  minutes  later  confusion 
was  at  its  height,  with  a  couple  of  hundred  Chinese  trying  to  get 
down  the  swinging  steps  and  a  couple  of  hundred  others  attempt- 
ing to  climb  them,  all  at  the  same  time.  Why  more  people  are 
not  drowned  over  here  is  a  mystery  to  me,  and  how  Ah-man 
landed  back  on  the  barge  after  getting  my  bag  safely  to  the 
deck  I  cannot  explain. 

All  that  I  recall  is  being  swept  up  the  swinging  stairway  and 
landing  against  a  turbaned  Indian  policeman  who,  recognizing 
the  only  European  passenger,  directed  me  to  a  gangway  that 
led  to  the  upper  deck.  Here  an  iron  gate  was  opened  and  another 
dusky  Indian  with  a  rifle  in  his  hand  beckoned  me  to  follow  him. 
The  steps  were  steep  and  suddenly  as  I  looked  up  I  noticed  that 
the  muzzle  of  the  Indian's  gun  was  pointed  directly  at  my  head. 
Now  that  member  of  my  body  is  fairly  thick  and  the  Indian  had, 
I  am  certain,  no  designs  on  me,  but  I  drew  back  and  waited 
prudently  until  conditions  were  more  favorable.  After  some 
searching  in  the  dark  a  stateroom  was  opened,  and  I  had  privacy 
at  least — also  one  sheet,  a  pillow,  and  a  blanket. 

I  caught  sleep  in  such  snatches  as  a  very  assertive  cough 

222 


'Shortly  after  six  o'clock  ice  sighted  a  small  group  of  buildings  on  the  side 
of  the  mountain."     {p.  2ig.) 


"The  waiting  sampan  was  unusually  large  and  its  jamiiy  had  evidently  retired 

Jor  the  night."     {p.  221.) 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


would  permit,  and  after  breakfast  I  went  on  deck  to  see  the 
river.  The  steamer  was  scheduled  to  be  in  Hongkong  shortly 
after  noon,  but  it  was  six  o'clock  before  it  reached  the  harbor, 
and  under  the  impression  that,  because  of  war  conditions,  we 
should  be  obliged  to  hang  outside  until  morning,  my  spirits 
were  not  exactly  gay.  Fortunately,  however,  we  were  allowed 
to  enter,  and  by  the  time  we  arrived  opposite  our  wharf  the 
towering  city  was  well-lighted.  Two  attempts  to  dock  failed, 
but  the  third  succeeded,  and  before  dinner  was  far  advanced 
I  arrived  at  the  Procure,  looking,  I  was  told,  quite  the  worse  for 
wear,  but  glad  to  get  to  what  felt  so  much  like  home. 


223 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XV 

UNDER   THE  AMERICAN   FLAG 

January  11,  1918. 

ANY  details  occupied  the  next  morning  and  early 
in  the  afternoon  I  sailed  on  theLoongsang  for  Manila. 
The  Loongsang — I  have  tried  to  forget  it,  but  the 
memory  of  that  boat  is  like  glue. 

She  looked  rather  small  and  innocent  as  I 
saw  her  from  the  launch  that  brought  two  of  the 
Paris  Procurators  and  myself  to  her  side.  We  re- 
marked a  row  of  easy  chairs  on  her  open  deck,  suggesting  such  a 
delightful  passage  as  only  guide-books  and  steamer  folders 
can  describe,  and  perhaps  my  friends  were  envious  as  they  left  me. 
There  was  one  other  passenger  in  evidence,  a  Manila  jeweller 
(with  emphasis  on  the  first  syllable)  who  was  returning  from  the 
States  and  had  stopped  over  in  China  to  make  some  purchases. 
He  strolled  about  the  deck  as  if  he  had  several  shares  in  the 
boat  and  occasionally  tried  out  the  chairs  of  comfort.  When  I 
went  to  my  stateroom  I  found  that  he  had  been  assigned 
as  my  running  mate,  or,  as  things  turned  out,  my  fellow- 
sufferer. 

The  Loongsafig's  anchor  was  weighed  at  three-thirty  p.  m. 
Its  youthful  old  captain  stood  stiffly  at  the  top  of  the  stairway 
and  saluted  magnificently  a  friend  who  was  leaving  him.  Within 
twenty  minutes  that  boat  was  kicking  up  her  heels  without 
any  visible  cause.  There  was  no  wild  storm.  The  sea  appeared 
to  have  only  its  usual  swell — but  the  Loongsang!  The  chairs 
were  all  lashed  to  keep  them  from  flying  overboard.  Every 
move  we  made  had  to  be  studied,  and  when  the  supper-gong 
sounded  at  six-thirty  it  brought  no  joy  to  me.  I  took  to  my 
berth,  had  a  roll  and  a  turn-over,  and  wondered  how  any  one  could 
say  that  life  on  an  ocean  wave  is  a  delight. 

Saturday  I  lived  on  oranges,  and  it  was  not  until  Sunday 
morning  that  I  managed  to  clamber  to  a  small  saloon  on  the 
deck,  where  my  partner  had  existed  supinely  for  thirty-six 
hours.  The  Loongsang  was  tossing  as  much  as  ever,  and  the 
jeweller,  who  had  lost  his  lustre,  began  to  excuse  his  condition. 

224 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

He  was  a  good  sailor,  never  got  sea-sick;  what  bothered  him  on 
this  trip  was  his  inability  to  take  exercise  because  of  the  boat's 
manoeuvres,  which  unsettled  his  stomach ;  and  so  forth  and  so  forth. 
"Gosh,"  he  added,  "I  used  to  wonder  why  everybody  in  Manila 
smiled  when  the  Loongsang  was  mentioned,  but  now  I  see  the 
point.  Last  time  for  me."  I  assented  to  this  conclusion,  quite 
in  sympathy  with  the  resolution,  and  we  lived  on  fried-egg 
sandwiches  and  oranges  that  day. 

The  next  morning  we  were  in  calm  waters,  steaming  along 
Corregidor  and  anticipating  the  arrival  at  ten  a.  m.  The  jeweller 
had  ironed  himself  out  and  was  looking  his  best,  ready  to  salute 
his  admiring  friends  on  the  dock;  but  he  spurned  the  idea  of  a 
Loongsang  breakfast  when  he  could  get  real  nourishment  so 
soon — and  as  we  sat  on  the  exhibition  easy-chairs  he  gave  an 
unsolicited  lecture  on  the  Philippines.  This  was  brought  to  a 
sudden  end  by  the  appearance  of  several  inspection-boats,  and 
by  the  apparition  on  deck  of  the  Chinese  family  of  which  we  had 
caught  one  glimpse  in  the  harbor  of  Hongkong  four  days  pre- 
viously. 

There  were  eight  children,  from  three  to  twenty-one,  with 
their  parents,  and  as  they  ranged  themselves  in  the  remaining 
chairs  they  were  a  decidedly  interesting  group.  Some  of  them 
looked  tired,  but  the  Chinese  are  accustomed  to  suffering,  and  a 
few  whiffs  of  air  brought  back  their  spirit  of  curiosity,  so  that 
they  began  quietly  to  enjoy  the  harbor  view  until  ordered  to 
line  up  for  the  visiting  doctors  from  whom  they  received  vaccina- 
tions without  a  murmur. 

When  inspections  were  over  and  the  Loongsang  steamed 
towards  its  dock,  I  began  to  ask  myself  about  the  next  move. 
Bishop  Foley  had  telegraphed  "Come,"  but  I  knew  that  he  was 
yet  far  away  from  Manila  and  I  had  no  friends  at  the  capital. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  surprise,  therefore,  to  note  in  the  dock 
line  of  expectants  that  morning  a  flash  of  purple,  which  I  knew 
could  hardly  be  there  except  for  myself — and  my  joy  was  con- 
siderable when  I  recognized  Bishop  MacGinley  of  Nueva 
Caceras,  a  constant  friend  of  Maryknoli  from  its  beginning. 

My  arrival  in  Manila  was  about  to  coincide  with  the  annual 
meeting  of  all  the  bishops  of  the  Philippine  Islands,  and  Bishop 

225 


OBSERVATI ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

MacGinley,  reaching  the  city  a  few  days  in  advance,  had  been 
made  acquainted  with  my  message  to  Bishop  Foley.  The 
Archbishop  was  out  of  town  but  had  kindly  left  word  for  me  to 
take  up  quarters  at  his  residence,  so  that  in  a  few  moments 
my  lines  had  fallen  in  goodly  places  and  the  Loongsang,  with 
other  memories  of  uneasy  moments,  disappeared  like  a  nightmare. 

Manila  was  clean,  white,  odorless,  and  peaceful,  and  as  I 
looked  up  at  the  Stars  and  Stripes  I  felt  that  I  was  home  again, 
and  that  my  Uncle  Sam  was  a  pretty  decent  sort  of  connection 
after  all. 

We  motored  quickly  along  the  new  American  boulevard  and 
a  few  minutes  after  entering  the  walled  city  were  in  the  Arch- 
bishop's "palace,"  a  simple,  unimposing  structure  from  outside 
but  dignified  and  spacious  within.  There  are  few  rooms  in  the 
palace,  but  they  are  all  large — and  the  room  into  which  I  was 
ushered  was  almost  frightening.  It  was  rather  a  dormitory,  with 
two  beds  and  a  partition  between  them,  but  there  was  ample 
accommodation  for  another  half-dozen.  I  tried  to  figure  out 
how  much  of  our  Pro-Seminary  would  fit  into  this  apartment 
and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  about  two-thirds  would  be  a 
good  guess. 

Pleasant  Days. 

My  stay  here  was  a  continued  holiday,  such  as  I  had  not 
experienced  in  years.  The  Archbishop,  returning  the  evening 
after  my  arrival,  gave  unquestioned  assurance  of  welcome. 
Bishop  Foley  came  on  the  third  day,  and  this  enviable  environ- 
ment, softened  by  the  spirit  of  comradeship,  by  genial  humor  and 
simple  recreations,  combined  with  balmy  air  and  other  health- 
giving  influences  to  put  me  back  into  excellent  physical  condition 
in  a  short  time. 

When  I  called  at  Buffalo  on  my  way  to  the  Far  East,  Bishop 
Dougherty,  formerly  of  Jaro,  in  the  Philippines,  sighed  a  de- 
sire to  accompany  me  that  he  might  see  the  East  again;  and  I 
have  since  met  many  who  said  they  had  learned  to  love  the 
Orient  so  much  that  they  could  not  live  away  from  it.  I  am 
certain  that  my  memory  of  the  Philippines  will  be  a  bright 
one,  though  I  realize,  too,  that  my  stay  was  under  the  most 

226 


^ 

y 

1— (      ^ 

'^< 

^^ 

—  ^H 

~:^ 

"^  -T^ 

•  ^-H 

^1^ 

^  Cii 

■^o^ 

^^ClI 

-^o 

—  ^T-t 

,  h-H 

--^^ 

1— 1 

-^  P5 

■^ 


o 


w 

H 

Jjjgg 

^< 

i<  [V] 

1  f  '5;^    fl 

i^Q^ 

>^Q 

il  |1  m 

t:o^ 

1-4  J 
caH'-' 

^hi^    " 

Sow 

'^PhI;^ 

V  ^  ^  ^    " 

;  1 4  .1 

f^;Ht        = 

^QW 

^.:i    H  V^                ; 

U    -P-i 

X  i  5  N     &■ 

r^3w 

.H^^:  ^?       ! 

onp 

^;S^ 

^     "  J     i 

i-H 

^-  — ^ 

in 

O 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

favorable  conditions.  I  had  the  perfect  weather  of  January,  a 
winter  month,  with  no  chill  in  the  air,  and  no  insects  to  sing 
me  awake.  I  had  friends  to  plan  for  me  and  to  carry  out  the 
program  with  neither  hitch  nor  inconvenience;  and,  more  or 
less  gracefully,  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  letting  somebody  else  do 
it — a  habit  not  unknown  in  the  Philippines. 

Our  Government  has  cleaned  Manila  and  made  it  odorless, 
but  happily  it  has  not  taken  away  the  Spanish  atmosphere. 
Streets,  houses,  people,  churches,  the  cries  of  vendors,  the  deep- 
toned  bells,  the  abundance  of  music  lovers,  and  a  hundred  other 
details,  combine  to  keep  Manila  the  adopted  child  of  old  Spain. 
And  although  it  was  January  in  Manila  I  could  recall  the  June 
heat  of  Spain.  Not  that  Manila  was  really  hot.  In  fact  I  met 
people  who  asked  if  I  did  not  feel  cold,  but,  as  a  fact,  we  wore, 
even  when  riding  in  the  open,  the  thinnest  garments,  and  in  the 
house  white  cassocks.  I  had  discarded  a  woolen  vest,  with  a 
rain-coat,  both  of  which  had  been  for  months  my  constant 
companions,  and  occasionally  as  I  looked  at  them  in  contempt 
I  wondered  how  I  could  have  borne  their  weight. 

Everybody  appeared  cool  and  comfortable  in  Manila  and  to 
me,  as  a  casual  observer,  all  seemed  to  be  well-dressed — the  men 
in  white,  the  women  in  elaborate  fluffs  that  ran  to  all  the  colors 
of  the  rainbow.  The  women's  dresses,  by  the  way,  must  con- 
tribute not  a  little  to  the  cleanliness  of  streets  and  sidewalks  in 
Manila.    Even  small  girls  carry  long  trains. 

Bishop  MacGinley  took  me,  at  an  early  moment,  to  visit  His 
Excellency,  Monsignor  Petrelli,  the  Apostolic  Delegate,  in 
whose  footsteps  I  had  been  walking,  rather  awkwardly,  through 
Japan  and  Korea.  His  Excellency's  photograph,  which  has 
appeared  more  than  once  in  The  Field  Afar,  was  so  familiar  to 
me  and  his  greeting  so  simple  and  genuine  that  I  felt  as  if  I 
had  always  known  him,  and  this  feeling  was  deepened  by  several 
occasions  when  I  again  met  him  at  his  own  pleasant  home  and 
elsewhere. 

Schools,  Religious  and  Otherwise. 

We  visited  also  that  day  the  Redemptorist  Fathers  and  the 
Convent  of  the  Assumption  Sisters. 

227 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  Redemptorist  Fathers  came  directly,  by  way  of  Australia, 
from  "the  old  country."  In  Manila  they  are  a  new  and  very 
useful  institution  They  have  been  assigned  to  the  parish  of 
Malate,  a  section  of  Manila,  and  in  the  past  few  years  they  have 
built  a  substantial  school,  not  a  day  too  soon.  The  American 
public  school  system  applied  to  the  Philippine  Islands  is  working 
such  havoc  as  must  gratify  those  in  the  Islands  and  elsewhere 
who  have  neither  love  nor  respect  for  the  Church  of  Christ, 
and  I  found  an  object  lesson  at  Malate. 

The  school  over  which  Father  Browne  presides  contains 
five  hundred  pupils.  In  the  public  schools  of  his  district,  how- 
ever, there  are  at  least  one  thousand  more  young  people  whose 
soul  development  is  confined  to  this  influence,  supplementing 
what  direction  parents,  indifferent  to  religion,  will  give.  Most 
of  the  boys  and  girls  who  attend  the  Malate  Catholic  School  are 
the  children  of  parents  anxious  to  have  their  Faith  preserved, 
and  these  parents  are  willing,  like  their  fellow-Catholics  in 
the  United  States,  to  make  a  sacrifice  to  the  great  end. 

The  proportion  between  Catholic  and  public  school  children 
in  the  Philippines  generally  is,  I  understand,  hardly  better 
than,  and  in  many  instances  not  so  good  as  at  Malate,  so  that 
one  cannot  help  fearing  for  the  future  under  such  conditions. 
Religious  instruction  is  not  allowed  in  the  public  schools  and  the 
children  will  not  go  to  the  church  to  secure  it. 

On  the  other  hand.  Protestantism  cannot  affect  many  of  the 
Filipinos  and  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  doubtful  if  it  can  strongly 
hold  any.  This  means  an  irreligious  generation  for  the  future, 
unless  our  Government,  realizing  the  temperament  of  the  Filipino 
people,  shall  make  it  a  point  to  encourage  in  the  public  schools 
the  teaching  of  the  Catholic  faith  to  those  whose  parents  are 
willing  to  have  them  receive  it.  Wise  legislators  who  look 
ahead  and  are  truly  patriotic  would  not  hesitate  to  bring  about 
this  condition.    Will  they  do  so? 

Our  visit  to  the  Assumption  Academy  gave  me  an  insight 
into  educational  advantages  for  Catholic  young  women  in  the 
Philippines.  This  is  one  of  several  similar  schools,  all  of  which 
compare  favorably  with  convent  schools  in  the  large  cities  of 
the  United  States.    The  Assumptionist  Sisters  impressed  me  as 

228 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


being  particularly  well-equipped.  Their  Superioress  is  an  Irish 
lady  and  there  is  at  least  one  American  among  them.  They  form 
a  happy  community  although  at  present,  as  all  along  the  line 
in  the  Far  East,  they  are  seriously  inconvenienced  for  lack  of 
recruits  from  the  mother-houses  in  Europe.  The  grounds  of  the 
Assumptionist  Convent  are  extensive  and  quite  delightful, 
especially  to  a  newly-arrived  visitor  who  finds  himself  suddenly 
dropped  into  semi-tropical  surroundings. 

The  building,  with  its  great  verandas,  its  windows  of  shell, 
and  its  suggestion  of  Spanish  days,  is  very  attractive;  and 
not  less  interesting  is  the  life  of  the  place.  The  day  of  our  visit 
here  there  was  a  monthly  meeting  of  the  graduate  pupils,  who, 
after  a  sermon  and  Benediction  in  the  chapel,  flitted  about  the 
grounds  like  so  many  butterflies,  while  from  what  sounded  like  a 
hundred  pianos  came  the  combined  noise  of  as  many  young 
would-be  "perfectly  wonderful  players."  On  the  occasion  of  a 
later  visit  to  this  convent  I  witnessed  a  little  drama  on  the 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Agnes,  which  had  been  prepared  for  the  hier- 
archy under  whose  sunlight  I  was  basking.  The  play,  given  in  a 
large  hall  open  at  the  sides,  was  well-staged  and  the  participants 
— all,  as  I  recall,  Filipino  pupils — were  certainly  a  credit  to  the 
good  judgment  and  training  of  their  teachers. 

In  Good  Company. 

Thursday  morning  I  met  Bishop  Foley  w^hen  his  boat  arrived. 
He  had  been  on  it  three  days  and  was  glad  to  land,  but  he  was  no 
better  pleased  to  see  a  newly  arrived  American  than  I  was  to 
greet  again  a  friend  of  my  youth,  and  a  brother,  constant  and 
sympathetic,  in  the  priesthood. 

Bishop  Foley  was  dressed  in  his  episcopal  cassock,  with  the 
broad  hat  and  the  green  and  gold  cord  commonly  worn  by 
bishops  in  Europe.  The  Philippines  have  seen  many  changes 
since  the  American  occupation  but  traditions  are  strong  and 
among  others  are  some  that  afifect  the  freedom  of  the  hierarchy. 
Bishops,  for  example,  must  keep  up  the  dignity  of  their  state 
while  on  the  Islands  and  should  not  be  seen  walking  in  the 
street.  It  is  not  good  form.  And  to  appear  in  the  street-dress 
of  an  American  bishop  would  be  absolutely  unpardonable,  even 

229 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

inconceivable.  As  large  a  spread  of  purple  as  possible,  a  wealth 
of  gold  chain  and  cross,  a  cushioned  seat  behind  two  horses,  a 
coachman  and  a  footman,  or,  as  is  now  tolerated,  a  respectable 
automobile,  these  are  what  the  Filipino  demands  of  his  bishop 
and  for  his  bishop,  although  he  may  never  give  a  peso  towards 
their  purchase  or  their  maintenance. 

With  Bishops  MacGinley  and  Foley  as  rare  companions  I  was 
enabled  to  look  into  some  of  the  many  other  religious  works  of 
Manila,  including  two  spacious  hospitals  and  several  schools. 
I  also  managed  to  make  visits  to  the  University  conducted  by 
the  Dominicans  and  to  the  Jesuit  College. 

Archbishop  O'Doherty,  who  was  busy  in  those  days  with 
Confirmation,  left  at  an  early  hour  every  morning  to  reach 
some  more  or  less  remote  post.  I  readily  accepted  an  excellent 
opportunity  which  one  of  these  Confirmation  trips  gave  me  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Filipino  life,  and  after  Masses  at  five  o'clock 
we  whirled  away  from  the  palace  through  the  yet  unwakened 
city  towards  the  north. 

The  Archbishop  of  Manila. 

The  Archbishop  of  Manila  is  a  providential  man  for  a  difficult 
position.  Very  few  Catholics  in  America  have  even  a  slight 
realization  of  the  difficulties  experienced  by  our  prelates  in  the 
Philippines  since  the  American  occupation. 

Their  position  has  been  a  delicate  one,  requiring  tact  as 
well  as  patience  and  practically  compelling  them  to  adopt  a 
policy  of  silence  lest  their  utterances,  misconstrued,  should 
react  against  the  Church.  As  non-Filipinos,  they  are  naturally 
identified  with  an  alien  authority  that  is  not  wanted,  and  even 
though  they  sympathize  with  the  aspirations  of  the  nation  for 
independence,  they  are  more  or  less  under  suspicion  and  their 
activities  correspondingly  hampered.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
are  forced  to  witness  the  spread  of  influences  that  are  bound  to 
dechristianize  a  large  percentage  of  their  flocks. 

Anyone  who  has  had  an  opportunity  to  live  among  pagans 
senses,  upon  arriving  in  the  Philippines,  the  atmosphere  of 
Christianity  and  the  effect  of  Christian  ideals.  Churches, 
schools,   hospitals,   respect   for  women,   love  of  children,   the 

230 


OBSERVAT IONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

happiness  that  radiates  from  devil-freed  souls,  these  evi- 
dences of  faith  and  charity  assert  themselves  almost  imme- 
diately. 

It  is  true  that  the  Filipinos  are  not  all  practising  and  in- 
telligent Catholics.  The  same  may  be  said  of  other  so-called 
Catholic  countries  in  Europe,  and  of  the  American  Catholic 
body.  It  is  true,  also,  that  the  spiritual  guides  of  the  Church  in 
the  Philippines  have  in  the  past  failed  at  times  as  faithful  shep- 
herds, that,  with  a  government  at  its  back  and  no  opposition, 
carelessness  crept  in  and  proper  religious  instruction  was  too 
often  wanting.  We  are  not  all  perfect  in  any  age,  and  defec- 
tions  must  be  expected  wherever  human  beings  exist.  Perhaps 
the  Philippine  Church  has  experienced  more  than  the  average 
of  such  failures.  Even  admitting  this,  no  impartial  observer, 
who  realizes  from  what  a  condition  the  race  has  been 
developed  by  the  sacrifices  of  Catholic  missioners  and  by  the 
intelligent  direction  of  their  successors,  can  hesitate  to  give 
credit  where  it  is  due. 

As  for  the  American  bishops  in  the  Philippines,  they  have 
been  bulwarks  of  the  Faith  and  models  of  charity.  Their  lives 
have  been  open  books  in  which  priests  and  people  could  read 
singleness  of  purpose  and  a  constant  devotion  that  must  have 
edified  even  if,  at  times,  it  failed  to  eradicate  the  weaknesses 
of  generations. 

Of  the  admirable  tact  and  patience  of  the  first  American 
Archbishop  of  Manila,  Archbishop  Harty,  I  heard  much.  The 
choice  of  his  successor  could  not  have  been  better.  As  rector 
of  the  University  of  Salamanca,  in  Spain,  Archbishop  O'Doherty 
speaks  Spanish  fluently.  His  experience  as  Bishop  of  Zam- 
boanga,  in  the  southern  portion  of  the  Islands,  gave  him  an 
insight  into  the  character  of  the  Filipinos  and  into  political  and 
economic  conditions,  so  that  he  brought  to  Manila,  as  its  Arch- 
bishop, a  wealth  of  experience  which,  combined  with  his  qualities 
of  heart  and  mind,  should  with  God's  grace  accomplish  much 
toward  saving  the  Filipinos  to  the  Church  of  Christ.  Arch- 
bishop O'Doherty  still  hovers  around  the  fifty-year  line  and 
has  the  buoyancy  of  a  zealous  priest  just  ordained.  His  per- 
ceptions are  keen  and  his  judgment  true. 

231 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

A  Ride  in  the  Country. 

As  we  plunged  that  morning  into  the  country  the  Arch- 
bishop gave  a  running  comment  on  what  we  passed,  revealing 
the  pride  of  a  native.  Occasionally  as  he  talked  he  would  return 
with  a  blessing  the  salutations  of  the  passing  villagers. 

The  air  was  fresh,  and  the  palm  trees  seemed  to  wave  a 
welcome  as  we  speeded  along  in  and  out  of  the  quaint  settle- 
ments. The  previous  day  I  had  read  of  a  blizzard  in  the  States 
and  with  closed  eyes  I  pictured  Maryknoll  shrouded  in  a  heavy 
blanket  of  snow,  the  mules  ploughing  pathways,  a  cold  north- 
western wind  sweeping  down  the  Hudson  over  our  hills.  But 
here  were  houses,  or  huts,  of  bamboo,  roofed  with  thatch, 
windowless,  and  squatting  on  four  high  posts. 

At  every  opening  some  member  of  the  family  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  something  to  happen.  Under  many  of  the  huts 
cattle  were  as  much  at  home  between  the  posts  below  as  their 
owners  were  above.  Proud  roosters  crowed  as  we  passed  and 
hens  scattered,  almost  losing  their  heads  as  they  did  so.  Half- 
clad  little  "brownies"  gazed  at,  and  doubtless  after  us,  and  I 
longed  for  a  moving-picture  machine  outfit,  so  arranged  that  it 
could  be  mounted  on  the  rear  of  our  automobile  and  run  itself. 
How  hard  it  is  to  impress  those  at  home  with  what  we  see  abroad! 
And  how  much  one  longs  to  do  so! 

Before  leaving  the  city  we  had  called  for  a  young  Filipino 
priest.  Father  Csesare,  who  assists  the  Archbishop  on  his 
Confirmation  tours  and  also  as  a  secretary.  Father  Caesare, 
who  made  his  course  in  Rome,  speaks  English  and  supplemented 
the  Archbishop's  explanations  from  time  to  time,  so  that  the 
journey  was  unusually  instructive  as  well  as  enjoyable.  We 
passed  several  sturdy  looking  old  churches  with  their"  conventos," 
(the  residences  of  the  priests)  commanding  the  public  squares, 
and  I  longed  to  look  into  them  more  closely  but  we  had  no  time 
to  lose. 

Our  chauffeur,  Daniel,  came  suddenly  to  a  stop  at  last  and 
even  our  dignified  little  footman,  the  Archbishop's  boy  Joseph, 
turned  in  his  seat.  It  was  not  the  end,  nor  was  it  an  accident, 
but  a  question  of  how  to  go  on,  because  the  road  seemed  to  lose 
itself  at  a  river.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do  and  we  did  it. 

232 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

■  \ 

Daniel's  and  Joseph's  purple-ribboned  caps  remained  motion- 
less on  their  heads  while  the  automobile  gracefully  forded 
the  stream,  without  sprinkling  even  a  drop  of  water  on  its 
occupants. 

Five  minutes  later,  as  we  neared  a  large  village,  the  sound  of 
a  brass  band  greeted  our  ears.  The  event  of  the  day  was  on  and 
my  role  was  a  very  simple  one.      It  was  to  be  the  solitary  spectator. 

Filipino  priests  in  surplice  met  us  as  the  automobile  stopped. 
A  Holy  Water  sprinkler  was  presented  to  the  Archbishop  and  we 
walked  briskly  through  a  large  gathering  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  into  the  church,  the  crowd  closing  in  as  we  proceeded 
to  the  sanctuary.  Here  prayers  were  said  and  the  Sacrifice  of  the 
Mass  offered  by  one  of  the  Filipino  priests. 

Following  this,  the  Archbishop  vested  and  made  a  formal 
visitation  of  the  church,  inspecting  confessionals,  Holy  Water 
stoups,  the  altars,  and  the  sacristy  (out  of  whose  cases  and 
cupboards  many  interesting  vases  and  sacred  vessels  had  been 
taken  for  this  occasion).  When  the  inspection  had  been  completed 
the  Archbishop  spoke  to  the  people  in  Spanish,  and  for  the 
benefit  of  those  who  knew  only  the  Tagalog  dialect  Father 
Caesare  interpreted  from  the  pulpit. 

Confirming  the  Babes. 

By  this  time  I  began  to  realize  that  the  church  was  filled 
and  that  no  inconsiderable  proportion  of  those  standing  (there 
are  no  seats  here)  had  babies  in  arms. 

It  has  long  been  a  custom  among  the  Filipino  Catholics  to 
confirm  children  in  their  infancy  and  the  American  bishops 
have  made  no  change.  I  had  been  prepared  to  witness  the 
confirmation  of  babies  but,  as  elsewhere,  I  did  not  know  what 
was  ahead  of  me,  when,  responding  gladly  to  the  Archbishop's 
suggestion,  I  accompanied  him  and  his  assistants  along  the 
line  of  those  to  be  confirmed.  "Along  the  line"  in  such  a  case 
always  meant  to  me  along  the  sanctuary  rail,  but  on  this  occasion 
it  was  up  and  down  the  church,  along  an  aisle  defined  by  tem- 
porary bamboo  rails,  back  of  which  was  massed  a  veritable  army 
of  Filipino  babies.  On  one  side  were  the  boys  and  on  the  other 
the  girls — each  held  by  a  god-parent  who  had  all  that  he  or  she 

233 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

could  do  to  present  at  the  same  time  the  infant  and  a  card 
bearing  its  name. 

As  we  left  the  sanctuary  the  crowd  overflowed  into  it,  and  as 
the  other  end  of  the  aisle  was  blocked  there  was  no  escape  even 
had  I  desired  it. 

The  wealth  of  color  was  for  a  moment  bewildering,  with  men, 
women  and  children  in  countless  shades — lemons,  pinks,  and 
light  greens  predominating.  Soon,  however,  I  could  centre  my 
attention  on  the  babies,  as  they  were  presented,  in  more  or  less 
complete  attire,  to  be  confirmed.  They  were  "the  cutest  little 
things  imaginable,"  as  one  of  our  Teresians  would  describe 
them,  with  their  wee  brown  faces  and  sparkling  black  eyes — but 
oh,  the  noise! 

Hardly  had  the  ceremony  begun  when  a  scream  gave  a  signal 
for  a  chorus  that  started  some  inquisitive  dogs  barking  and 
spread  confusion  like  a  train  of  lighted  powder  through  the 
waiting  crowds.  I  recall  baptizing  infants  when  ten  were  in 
one  small  room,  but  here,  by  actual  count,  as  was  afterwards 
reported,  there  were  one  thousand  and  twenty  screechers,  and 
I  hope  I  do  not  exaggerate  when  I  say  that  more  than  one  thou- 
sand were  screaming  on  that  occasion. 

There  is  no  window  glass  in  these  great  churches  of  the 
Philippines  and  occasionally,  through  the  bars  that  supported 
the  openings,  birds  would  fly  in  and  over  our  heads  to  find  out 
what  was  the  trouble.  As  we  passed  back  toward  the  altar  on 
the  first  turn,  I  noticed  behind  the  pulpit  the  placid  countenance 
of  St.  Thomas,  of  the  Order  of  Preachers,  but  no  Dominican 
could  silence  such  a  congregation  as  this.  Some  of  the  babes 
were  breaking  their  fast  by  munching  crackers,  which,  in  some 
cases  failing  to  pacify,  made  matters  worse  as  the  little  faces 
were  presented  to  His  Grace  smeared  with  a  tear-mixed  paste. 

By  the  fifth  turn  the  crowd  had  broken  down  the  bamboo  rail. 
Babies  were  being  pushed  into  place  under  some  temporary 
benches  on  which  they  were  occasionally  deposited — almost 
thrown — from  above  the  heads  of  those  on  the  inside  line. 

As  we  came  again  toward  the  altar  for  the  seventh  time  I 
took  a  look  toward  St.  Thomas  back  of  the  pulpit.  Angels 
without  wings  were  hiding  him.     Two  youngsters  in  pink  and 

234 


< 


< 

1—1 

jj  ^-< 

Q 
< 

O 


O 


3 
O 
O 


c 

o 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


yellow  gauze,  looking  for  new  sensations,  had  mounted  the 
pulpit  steps  and,  with  arms  akimbo  (like  Raphael's  cherubs) 
resting  on  the  desk,  were  calmly  surveying  the  scene  before 
them.  I  expected  every  moment  to  see  them  "called  down," 
but  no — we  were  in  the  Philippines,  where  everybody  feels  at 
home  in  the  church. 

I  did  not  note  the  number  of  times  we  went  up  and  down 
that  line  of  babies  and  I  wondered  if  there  were  not  some  "re- 
peating" in  the  crowd,  but  the  name  cards  told  the  story  and 
finally  the  last  scream  was  heard,  the  closing  prayer  read,  and 
we  went  into  the  convento. 

A  portion  of  the  congregation  seemed  to  have  penetrated  the 
privacy  of  the  house  before  we  entered  and  everybody  wished 
to  kiss  the  Bishop's  ring.  The  Filipinos  love  this  little  ceremony 
far  better,  I  am  sure,  than  do  the  bishops,  who  cannot  very  well 
discourage  it. 

Living  quarters  in  the  Philippine  villages  seem  to  be  all  up- 
stairs and  this  convento  was  no  exception,  but  I  felt,  as  I  reached 
the  upper  story,  that  safety  lay  below.  The  floor  beams  were 
of  thin  bamboo  rods  with  spaces  through  which  one  could  see 
the  dirt  floor  below.  Laid  on  the  bamboo  were  mattings  over 
which  I  walked  gingerly,  with  a  feeling  that  I  would  surely  go 
through  at  the  next  step;  but  confidence  came  back  when  I 
realized  that  the  great  officials  of  the  village  were  trusting  their 
illustrious  personages  to  the  bamboo  and  that  the  Archbishop 
himself  was  unconcerned. 

When  His  Grace  had  gotten  into  cooler  garments  speeches 
were  made  at  him,  and  one,  from  a  young  man,  seemed  particu- 
larly eloquent.  It  touched  on  the  independence  of  the  Philippines 
among  a  dozen  other  subjects  and  was  applauded  heartily. 
Dinner  followed  the  speeches,  and  the  unfailing  siesta  followed 
dinner.  In  the  meantime,  babies  who  had  had  other  engage- 
ments in  the  morning  turned  up  for  Confirmation  in  the  after- 
noon. The  patient  Archbishop  put  on  his  robes  again  and  made 
everybody  concerned  happier.  Towards  four  o'clock,  while  the 
bandmen  snoozed,  we  left  quietly  for  Manila. 

Father  Csesare  is  Chaplain  of  an  interesting  establishment 
which  we  visited  before  returning  to  the  palace.     It  is  in  the 

235 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

heart  of  the  city  on  a  small  island  and  includes,  among  other 
features,  a  home  for  working  girls,  an  asylum  for  abandoned 
infants,  and,  in  the  rear,  a  house  for  the  insane.  The  chapel, 
patios  (inner  courts),  and  ample  corridors  are  all  attractive. 

Catholic  Student  Life. 

Manila  is  no  small  city.  It  boasts  of  a  population  approach- 
ing three  hundred  thousand,  and  it  is  a  Mecca  for  aspiring  lawyers, 
doctors,  and  other  professional  gentlemen. 

The  new  guide-book  published  by  the  Imperial  Railways  of 
Japan  does  not  speak  kindly  of  Religious  Order  domination 
in  the  Philippines  but  it  makes  at  least  one  favorable  statement 
when  it  says  that  the  University  of  St.  Thomas,  conducted  by 
the  Dominican  Fathers,  is  "the  oldest  institution  of  its  kind 
under  the  American  flag." 

This  University  was  begun  in  1611.  It  supplies  courses  in 
theology,  canon  law,  civil  law,  philosophy,  classics,  civil  engineer- 
ing, architecture,  art,  medicine,  physiology,  pathology,  organic 
and  inorganic  chemistry,  and  other  "ologies."  It  has  a  museum 
that  is  widely  known  and  often  visited  and  its  students  represent 
all  sections  of  the  Islands.  I  looked  into  St.  Thomas  University 
one  morning  and  saw  also  the  Dominican  publication  and  printing 
establishment,  which  is  quite  complete,  well  enough  equipped, 
in  fact,  to  produce  books  and  a  daily  paper. 

Only  a  few  minutes  away  from  the  Dominican  properties  is 
the  Jesuit  College,  known  as  the  Ateneo,  which  was  founded  in 
1859  and  has  about  a  thousand  students.  Here,  although  I 
met  no  English-speaking  priests  to  the  language  born,  there 
were  several  who  know  and  teach  in  English. 

The  Student  Dormitory  Idea. 

Besides  these  two  large  Catholic  educational  institutions, 
there  are  other  institutions  conducted  by  the  Government, 
whose  students,  as  a  rule,  catch  hardly  a  breath  of  Christian 
faith  during  their  course. 

Protestant  effort  has  been  directed  towards  these  young  men 
and  dormitories  have  been  established  to  provide  for  their 
temporary  homes.    The  Y.  M.  C.  A.  is  strong  in  this  movement 

236 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  its  house  is  well-filled  with  students  who  pay  a  moderate 
sum  for  their  accommodation. 

A  few  years  ago  Father  Finnegan,  one  of  the  few  American 
Jesuits  who  have  worked  in  the  Philippines,  opened  a  dormitory 
on  a  small  scale,  with  such  success  that  it  was  decided  to  erect 
a  large  house.  Once  started  this  work  would  support  itself, 
but  the  building  and  grounds  called  for  an  expenditure  that 
sent  Father  Finnegan  back  to  the  States  to  find  the  means.  He 
managed  to  gather  enough  for  the  land  but  was  obliged  to  give 
up  this  dormitory  work,  which  was  then  transferred  to  the  only 
American  Augustinian  remaining  in  the  Islands. 

This  Augustinian,  Father  McErlaine,  although  a  solitary 
representative,  is  by  no  means  lonely.  Heat  may  excuse  the 
Filipino  for  lack  of  initiative  and  perseverance  but  it  seems  never 
to  wilt  Father  McErlaine,  who  is  known  apparently  by  everyone 
in  Manila  and  for  enterprise  is  the  equal  of  any  hustling  priests 
in  America  or  elsewhere.  Archbishop  O'Doherty  is  giving  a 
hearty  and  substantial  backing  to  Father  McErlaine  who,  by 
means  of  a  paper,  St.  Rita's  Messenger,  and  circular  letters,  has 
been  throwing  out  lines  over  the  Islands  and  across  the  ocean 
and  bringing  back  such  substantial  returns  that  the  Catholic 
Dormitory,  also  named  after  St.  Rita,  is  already  near  completion 
and  will  be  the  most  attractive  and  best-situated  building  of  its 
kind  in  Manila. 

Father  McErlaine  lives  among  the  students,  speaks  to  them 
in  English,  the  language  of  their  ambitions,  and  has  a  special 
Mass  at  the  Cathedral  every  Sunday,  at  which  an  English 
sermon  is  preached  and  which  the  students  attend.  He  needs 
helpers  and  lives  in  the  hope  that  one  or  more  of  his  American 
confreres  can  be  spared  to  join  him  in  this  worthy  enterprise. 
Among  the  young  men  now  living  under  Catholic  influences  will 
be,  doubtless,  some  of  the  future  framers  of  laws  and  moulders 
of  public  opinion.  Multiply  the  chances  of  securing  always  a 
goodly  proportion  of  such  friends  and  the  Church  will  not  be 
hampered  in  the  Philippines.  The  new  dormitory  will,  it  is 
hoped,  be  the  first  of  several  yet  to  be  established  in  large  centres 
through  the  Islands.  Less  than  a  dozen  American  priests,  who 
need  to  speak  only  English  and  who  are  willing  to  spend  them- 

237 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

selves  for  the  souls  of  young  men,  would  meet  this  need.  The 
Apostolic  Delegate,  the  Archbishop  of  Manila,  and  all  the  bishops 
— American  and  Filipino — are  keenly  anxious  to  see  this  plan 
realized  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 

Here  and  There. 

What  do  you  think  of  a  Catholic  pawn-shop?  There  is  one  in 
Manila  and  it  is  worth  a  visit.  I  went  there  in  the  company  of 
its  president,  the  Archbishop  himself,  and  had  the  privilege  of 
getting  inside  the  gratings. 

The  Far  East  is  full  of  pawn-shops  and  of  usurers  who  de- 
mand exorbitant  interest.  To  keep  impecunious  Filipinos 
from  the  clutches  of  these  vultures  the  Church,  before  the 
American  occupation,  encouraged  the  establishment  of  this 
Monte  de  Piedad  (Mount  of  Charity),  as  the  Catholic  pawn-shop 
is  called. 

Here  is  the  idea.  Filipinos  love  jewelry  and  sink  their 
money  in  it.  Senora  A .  wakes  up  some  morning  and  finds  herself 
badly  off  for  money.  She  unlocks  her  jewel-box,  takes  out 
more  than  the  value  of  what  she  needs,  and  brings  her  treasure  to 
a  very  respectable-looking  bank-building  in  the  heart  of  Manila. 
She  passes  it  in  at  one  of  several  small  openings,  where  it  is  put 
into  the  hands  of  an  expert  appraiser  who  decides  the  limit  of 
amount  to  be  loaned.  Senora  A.  takes  away  her  little  bills, 
while  her  treasure  is  labeled  and  stowed  away  in  a  safety-deposit 
drawer.  She  pays  a  small  interest  regularly.  If  she  fails  to  pay 
she  is  notified  and  after  a  reasonable  delay  her  jewel  is  placed 
with  others  to  be  advertised  as  for  sale.  The  proceeds  of  these 
sales,  minus  necessary  expenses,  are  given  to  various  needs,  so 
that  the  gatherings  of  jewelry  become  little  mounts  of  charity. 
A  savings-bank  is  also  connected  with  this  work  and  occupies  the 
same  building. 

While  in  Manila  I  met  several  young  Filipino  Knights  of 
Columbus  who  have  been  much  edified  by  the  lives  of  well- 
known  Americans  from  the  States  and  are  enthusiastic  over  the 
prospects  of  the  Order  as  a  strengthening  force  in  the  Islands. 

The  first  number  of  a  new  Catholic  publication  appeared 
recently  under  the  title,  "La  Verdad,"  and  it  may  soon,  if  it  has 

238 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

not  already,  become  a  daily.  It  is  planned  to  have  this  paper  the 
organ  of  a  Catholic  Federation  in  which  all  the  bishops  of  the 
Islands  are  interested  and  which  will  be  recruited  along  parochial 
lines  as  far  as  possible. 

Archbishop  O'Doherty  has  a  strong  hope  that  the  pro- 
jected Federation  will  be  an  important  factor  in  Filipino  Catholic 
life  and  the  new  paper  will  undoubtedly  help  much  to  form  public 
opinion  among  Catholics,  and,  to  some  extent,  among  non- 
Catholics. 

Festivities. 

The  reunion  at  Manila  of  all  the  bishops  made  it  unnecessary 
for  me  to  go  to  two  remote  cities  as  I  had  expected  to  do,  but 
before  leaving  the  Philippines  I  enjoyed  a  few  excursions  into 
the  interior.    One  was  to  Lipa;  the  other  a  short  run  to  Antipole. 

Lipa  was  celebrating  the  first  anniversary  of  the  consecration 
of  Bishop  Verzosa,  a  native  Filipino  who  succeeded  the  present 
Delegate,  Monsignor  Petrelli,  in  this  episcopal  see.  Bishop 
Verzosa  is  still  young,  gentle,  dignified  and  evidently  loved  by 
his  people. 

We  left  Manila  at  a  very  early  hour  on  Sunday  morning 
and  after  killing  a  few  hens,  maiming  the  leg  of  an  unfortunate 
dog,  and  barely  missing  numerous  fighting  cocks,  the  chauffeur 
landed  us  at  Lipa,  too  late  for  the  Mass.  The  streets  were  full  of 
people  in  holiday  attire  and  the  town-band  was  playing  to 
beat  itself  as  we  turned  into  the  episcopal  courtyard  between 
two  lines  of  Filipinos  who  had  secured  coveted  places  that 
would  give  them  an  opportunity  "to  kiss  the  Bishop's  ring." 

Bishop  Verzosa  was  in  his  white  gown,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  honors  being  heaped  upon  him.  He  gave  us  welcome  in 
his  own  simple  way  and  we  were  at  home  in  a  minute.  The 
Delegate  arrived  a  little  later  and  the  day  progressed  leisurely, 
as  feast-days  do  in  the  Philippines.  I  recall  nothing  of  special 
interest  except  that  our  host  was  disappointed  at  the  age  of  a 
turkey  which  he  had  ordered  for  the  occasion ;  also  that  while  at 
dinner  I  was  somewhat  disturbed  by  a  boy  who  stood  at  my 
back  and  waved  over  the  table  a  large  fan  that  seemed  occasional- 
ly about  to  drop. 

239 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  Bishop  MacGinley  and  Bishop 
Foley  took  me  to  visit  some  Franciscan  Missionaries  of  Mary, 
where  we  found  two  genial  Irish  nuns  and  where  I  learned  that 
a  nun  whom  I  had  met  in  the  United  States  is  in  a  remote  section 
of  the  same  diocese.  That  evening  in  the  hall  of  the  Bishop's 
residence  the  notables  of  the  city  gathered  with  their  wives.  The 
men  lined  up  on  one  side,  the  women  opposite,  the  Bishops 
and  priests  between  the  two,  the  band  at  a  tolerable  distance 
in  the  rear.  A  young  lawyer  from  Manila  made  a  perfervid 
oration  to  which  the  Bishop  replied  in  a  mild  speech,  at  the 
close  of  which  good  health  was  wished  all  around  and  everybody 
retired,  including  the  band. 

I  had  no  idea  that  we  should  stay  over  night,  but  it  seems 
that  Sunday  was  only  a  preparation  for  Monday.  Every  Sunday 
is  a  holiday  and  the  real  celebration  should  take  place  on  a  week 
day  so  as  to  give  the  people  something  worth  while.  We  made 
ourselves  comfortable  with  what  clothing  we  had  brought — 
on  our  backs — and  I  slept  until  four  o'clock,  when  I  was 
awakened  by  the  band  playing  "Old  Black  Joe"  and  by  bells 
galore.  The  band  had  evidently  been  compressing  air  during 
the  night  and  was  rousing  the  people  who,  to  their  credit  be  it 
said,  rise  with  the  sun  and  even  before  that  mighty  monarch  of 
the  day. 

The  grand  Mass  was  at  eight-thirty  and  as  I  looked  down  from 
the  gallery  and  saw  the  throng  it  was  easy  to  picture  the  ages 
of  faith,  when  such  scenes  were  common  in  the  great  cathedrals 
of  Europe.  Two  confessionals  jutted  a  few  feet  into  the  body  of 
the  large  church,  and,  excepting  the  space  occupied  by  those 
small  boxes,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  place  for  one  more  person. 
It  was  like  a  vast  garden  of  closely-planted  flowers  set  before  an 
elevated  shrine.  Fully  five  thousand  people  were  in  that  church 
and  as  many  more  remained  outside  at  the  door  or  along  the 
road  that  led  to  it.  It  was  an  afTecting  scene,  even  for  one,  who 
like  the  companion  at  my  side,  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
annoying  and  at  times  discouraging  frailties  of  these  children 
of  the  Pacific;  but  it  was  a  strong  ray  of  hope  that,  with  God's 
grace,  sturdy  souls  would  rise  in  great  numbers  from  Filipino 
stock  to  rule  and  to  be  ruled  in  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 

240 


H 


o 
< 

H 
O 

Q 


2:i 


-i 

I— ( 

< 


^ 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  sermon  was  delivered  by  a  Filipino  priest  who  has 
accomplished  practically  the  extinction  of  Aglypayanism  in  his 
parish.  I  heard  the  sermon — or  rather,  saw  it — as  it  came  forth, 
but  could  not  make  out  words,  as  either  the  church  was  too 
long  or  my  ear  too  short.  The  music  was  florid  but  excellently 
rendered  by  a  male  choir  directed  by  a  priest  and  I  am  under 
the  impression  that  the  organist  was  also  a  priest. 

When  the  ceremony  was  over  my  two  episcopal  companions 
took  their  places  on  a  balcony  of  the  palace,  and,  again  in  the 
shadow  of  their  purple  and  gold,  I  watched  the  sortie.  The 
first  groups  passed  without  looking  up,  then  a  little  finger 
pointed  to  the  Bishops  and  this  was  the  spark  that  thrilled  the 
crowd.  There  was  no  ovation,  but  waves  of  faces  turned  their 
eyes  upward  like  an  incoming  sea.  Occasionally  a  group  would 
stop,  comment  on  their  discovery  of  real  Bishops,  wait  for  a 
nod  or  a  smile  of  recognition,  and  move  along,  pleased  for  the 
rest  of  the  day — if  they  did  not  happen  to  be  hungry.  I  say  this 
advisedly,  because  the  Filipino,  like  certain  other  peoples, 
would  go  without  food  to  look  respectable  on  a  feast-day. 

After  dinner  that  day  we  motored  some  miles  further  south 
to  visit  in  Batangas,  the  parish  of  the  preacher,  a  community 
of  Good  Shepherd  nuns — several  of  whom  are  Irish — all  engaged 
in  teaching.  The  ride  back  to  Manila  was  refreshingly  cool  and 
not  too  rapid.  I  wondered  occasionally  who  had  feasted  on  the 
hens  killed  during  our  trip  of  the  previous  day. 

One  other  excursion  brought  to  an  end  those  recreation  days. 
It  was  across  the  bay  to  Corregidor,  where  Uncle  Sam  keeps 
troops  by  the  hundreds  and  some  sea-sweeping  guns  that  look 
as  if  they  were  made  for  the  real  business  of  war.  It  takes 
about  three  hours  to  get  to  Corregidor  but  the  trip  was  pleasant 
and  Father  Arnold,  the  Chaplain,  was  ready  at  the  other  end  to 
extend  a  cordial  welcome.  Our  group  was  made  up  of  the 
Archbishop,  Bishop  MacGinley,  Bishop  Foley,  Father  McErlaine, 
O.S.A.,  'and  the  scribe.  It  was  a  formidable  army  to  present  to  a 
struggling  Chaplain,  but  Father  Arnold  did  the  honors  nobly 
in  his  little  home  and  even  added  to  our  company  the  principal 
officers  of  the  garrison.  Father  Arnold  has  a  busy  life  but  is 
fond  of  his  work  and  is  evidently  a  force  at  Corregidor.    He  is  so 

241 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

fortunate  as  to  have  a  devoted  mother  to  keep  house  for  him. 

I  had  found  old  friends  and  some  good  new  ones  in  the 
Philippines.  I  was  glad  indeed  to  have  been  with  them  and 
correspondingly  loath  to  leave  them,  but  the  Shinyo  Maru  was 
in  port  and  my  name  was  on  the  booking  list.  Besides,  I  had 
work  to  do  in  a  measured  space  of  time  over  in  China  and  a  trip 
to  make  to  Tongking.  The  genial  Delegate  was  host  that  last 
day,  and  every  Bishop  on  the  Islands  except  Bishop  Hurth  was 
present  at  lunch.  Bishop  Hurth  had  returned  to  his  diocese, 
but  he  was  replaced  by  Bishop  McCloskey,  the  Benjamin  of  the 
Philippine  hierarchy,  who,  after  a  two-days'  wait  for  the  wind 
to  subside  and  a  three-days'  steamer  trip,  had  arrived  that 
morning  from  Zamboanga. 

My  boat  left  at  two  o'clock.  Father  Gavan  Duffy,  who  had 
come  on  the  Shinyo  from  San  Francisco,  was  expecting  me,  and 
four  Bishops — three  of  them  home  friends,  the  fourth  the  affable 
young  Filipino  Bishop  who  succeeded  Bishop  Foley  at  Tugue- 
garao — honored  us  with  a  send-off.  I  have  yet  a  recollection  of 
Bishop  Foley,  mounted  on  some  obstruction,  waving  his  hat  and 
hands  as  our  great  boat  slipped  out  into  the  harbor. 

Au  revoir,  Philippines!  I  have  experienced  on  the  continent 
of  Asia  untold  and  innumerable  evidences  of  good  will,  but 
in  your  Islands  I  seemed  to  be  in  my  own  country  again  and 
with  brothers  of  a  lifetime.  May  my  wandering  feet  touch  again 
your  hospitable  soil! 


242 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   TRIP   TO   INDO-CHINA 

February  2,  1918. 

ERY  large  steamers  do  not  land  at  Hongkong. 
They  anchor  out  in  the  harbor  and  are  besieged 
at  once  by  all  kinds  of  craft,  anxious  to  get  some 
of  their  passengers  or  cargo.  Fortunately  for  us 
we  had  on  board  from  Manila  the  Provincial  of  the 
Spanish  Dominicans,  for  whose  reception  his 
confreres  in  Hongkong  had  provided  a  small  launch, 
into  which — by  invitation,  of  course — Father  Duffy  and  I 
managed  to  scramble.  Half-an-hour  later  we  announced  our- 
selves at  the  Procure,  of  which  Maryknoll  seems  now  to  be 
almost  a  branch. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  on  Saturday  I  was  booked  for  an 
English  sermon  Sunday  across  the  harbor  at  Kowloon.  In  the 
meantime  I  was  busy  enough  with  accumulated  correspondence, 
for  which  little  time  remained  as  I  had  before  me  a  trip  to  Canton 
and  the  longer  one  to  Tongking. 

Sunday  morning  I  found  at  Kowloon  a  cozy  church,  with  a 
growing  congregation  of  English-speaking  Portuguese  and  some 
Chinese.  The  Blessed  Sacrament  was  in  exposition  that  day. 
After  Mass  the  pastor  brought  me  to  the  Canossian  Sisters,  all 
of  whom  teach  in  English  although  no  one  of  them  is  of  English- 
speaking  birth.  The  nuns  would  welcome  vocations  from 
America  and  would  be  glad  to  establish  a   novitiate  there. 

As  we  were  waiting  for  lunch  that  day  a  Chinese  woman  of 
the  poorer  class  came  with  her  little  boy  to  see  the  pastor,  and 
when  she  went  away  my  host  told  me  her  story,  typical  of 
thousands  in  China.  She  was  one  of  the  multitudes  that  live 
out  their  poor  lives  on  sampans,  and  through  some  influence  she 
had  become  a  Catholic  catechumen — in  other  words,  was  under 
instruction.  Her  husband  had  fallen  ill  and  that  she  might 
nurse  him  she  had  sold  one  of  her  boys  for  $200  (Mexican,  about 
$144  in  American  money  at  the  present  rate  of  exchange).  That 
was  months  ago,  and  with  debts  to  pay  and  her  husband  yet  ill 
there  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  do  but  sell  her  younger  boy. 

243 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

She  sought  advice  from  my  host,  who  could  give  her  no  money. 
He  took  the  case  into  his  hands,  however,  determined,  if  he  failed 
to  get  ransom  money  from  some  of  his  parishioners,  to  at  least 
find  a  Catholic  family  for  the  second  boy. 

I  saw  the  mother  and  the  son  as  they  went  away  from  the 
house  to  the  floating  bark  which  they  called  "home"  and  where  a 
husband  and  father  lay  ill  awaiting  their  return.  How  little 
the  passing  traveler  knows  of  the  actual  misery  in  China! 

Visits  in  Hongkong. 

That  Sunday  when  I  arrived  at  the  Procure  I  found  a  tele- 
gram from  Father  Fraser,  dated  at  Amoy,  announcing  his 
arrival  on  the  morrow,  Monday.  In  the  meantime,  Father 
Duffy  had  gone  to  Canton.  In  Hongkong,  as  elsewhere  in  China, 
exact  information  about  incoming  and  outgoing  steamers  is 
hard  to  get.  On  the  assurance  that  Father  Fraser's  boat  could 
not  anchor  until  nine  a.  m.  I  waited  until  shortly  before  that 
hour  to  telephone,  and  while  at  the  instrument,  and — let  me 
confess  it — expostulating  with  an  English  accent  at  the  other 
end,  the  door  by  which  I  was  standing  opened  and  the  long  form 
of  Father  Fraser  appeared,  with  four  coolies  and  eight  bags. 

The  Procure  was  a  lively  place  that  morning.  Chinese 
students  for  the  priesthood  were  passing  through  to  a  new 
Seminary  at  Swatow,  others  were  on  their  way  to  the  general 
Seminary  in  Penang,  and  as  the  Swatow  group  went  out  Father 
Fraser  and  his  coolies  came  in.  The  coolies  made  their  usual 
exorbitant  demand,  laying  the  money  offered  on  the  ground  as 
an  inconceivable  acceptance.  But  we  closed  the  door  on  their 
remonstrances  and  they  soon  disappeared,  leaving  no  cash  behind 
them. 

Father  Fraser,  with  his  green  cassock  and  faded  hat,  looked 
the  worse  for  wear,  but  when  we  had  talked  awhile  I  took  him 
out  for  a  first  exhibit,  and  the  people  seemed  to  appreciate  the 
kindness. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  with  Father  Robert  to  the  so-called 
"French  Convent,"  where  I  was  due  for  a  talk  to  the  pupils; 
and  after  another  inspection  of  that  centre  of  many  charities 
Father  Fraser  and  I  returned  to  the  Procure  to  discuss  immediate 

244 


A   COUNTRY   STATION   IN   TONGKING 


TRAVELING    IN    THE   LAND    OF    \  ENARU 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


plans.  I  was  waiting  for  news  of  the  boat  for  Haiphong,  Indo- 
China,  and  when  I  learned  that  it  would  not  sail  until  Friday 
morning  we  determined  to  go  to  Canton  without  delay,  as 
Father  Fraser  was  anxious  to  get  a  hold  on  the  Cantonese  dialect 
— a  dialect  quite  different  from  that  of  Ning-po  which  he  speaks 
with  facility. 

I  had,  however,  a  steamer  ticket  to  buy  for  the  return  to 
America,  not  to  speak  of  outlays  for  an  operation  on  Father 
Fraser's  scanty  hair,  a  new  two-dollar  hat  for  him,  the  lengthen- 
ing of  his  only  pair  of  street  trousers,  et  cetera,  et  cetera,  but 
at  length,  on  Wednesday  afternoon,  we  went  across  the  harbor 
to  Kowloon  and  took  the  train  for  Canton  at  about  two  o'clock, 
arriving  in  time  for  dinner  at  seven.  Father  Fraser  fell  into  the 
life  at  Canton  as  if  he  had  always  been  there. 

Yeungkong  a  battle  (!)  field. 

The  great  question  considered  on  Thursday  was  how  to  get 
to  the  Maryknoll  centre  at  Yeungkong.  General  Lung  had 
taken  that  city  some  weeks  before  and  had  occupied  it  with 
five  thousand  troops,  but  rumor  now  had  it  that  this  same 
General  Lung  and  his  cohorts  had  been  chased  off  the  premises, 
and  in  fact,  that  morning,  when  I  called  on  the  American  Consul, 
he  told  me  that  the  rumor  was  trtie,  as  he  had  learned  by  tele- 
gram the  day  before.  I  explained  the  importance  of  our  visit 
to  Yeungkong  and  asked  if  .a  battleship  might  be  going  down 
that  way.  It  was  more  than  a  delicate  hint  to  send  one,  but  I 
did  not  get  the  battleship.  The  Consul,  however,  expressed  his 
purpose  to  secure  information  about  the  safest  means  to  reach 
Yeungkong,  and  he  suggested  that  if  we  decided  to  engage  a 
small  launch  or  a  sailing  vessel  he  would  furnish  us  with  an 
American  flag,  which  commands  the  respect  of  soldiers,  and 
even  of  pirates,  as  a  rule. 

We  had.  in  fact,  been  seriously  thinking  of  hiring  a  small 
steamer  to  bring,  besides  Father  Gauthier,  Father  Fraser  and 
myself,  two  catechists  (one  of  whom  would  have  with  him  his 
wife  and  three  children),  together  with  their  furniture  and  ours. 
Coal,  however,  is  $24.00  (Mexican)  a  ton  (more  than  $17.00  in 
American   money)   and  we  should  be  steaming  several  days. 

245 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Added  to  this  expense  would  be  that  of  the  crew  and  the  food, 
covering  a  period  of  at  least  one  week  and  perhaps  longer. 

Further  inquiries  were  in  order,  but  my  boat  for  Haiphong 
was  due  to  start  from  Hongkong  early  the  next  morning,  and 
leaving  Father  Gauthier  and  Father  Fraser  to  consult  with 
some  wise  heads  at  the  Mission  and  at  other  sources  of  enlighten- 
ment outside  its  walled  enclosures,  I  pousse-poussed  again  to 
the  station  and  after  an  uneventful  journey  reached  Hongkong, 
where  it  was  a  pleasant  surprise  to  find  Father  Robert,  my  host, 
waiting  at  the  ferry-slip. 

On  the  South  China  Sea. 

Masses  were  said  very  early  Friday  morning,  so  that  we 
could  get  a  "mouthful"  and  reach  our  boat  at  seven  a.  m. 
Father  Duffy  had  arranged  to  be  with  me  as  far  as  Haiphong 
and  Hanoi,  and  Father  Robert  with  Father  Souvey  insisted  that 
they  would  relish  an  early  morning  sail  on  the  harbor,  so  we 
four  and  a  faithful  domestic  walked  down  the  steep  hill  to  a 
boat-landing,  roused  a  family  on  its  sampan,  and  installed 
ourselves  on  swiftly-prepared  benches  whose  previous  occupants, 
a  young  mother  and  her  infant,  disappeared  in  a  hole  hardly 
large  enough  for  "Collie"  of  Maryknoll. 

As  there  was  a  favorable  breeze  that  morning  the  mother-in- 
law  had  only  to  steer  in  place  of  her  usual  occupation  at  the  oar. 
We  reached  the  Taksang  a  good  hour  before  she  sailed.  No 
"boy"  came  forward  to  take  our  grips.  No  rooms  seemed  to 
be  ready.  There  were,  I  had  been  told,  only  two  staterooms 
on  the  boat,  which  looked  suspiciously  like  the  Loo7igsang, 
and  half-a-dozen  Japanese  business  men  besides  Father  Duffy, 
a  returned  French  soldier,  a  non-Catholic  Irishman,  and  myself 
were  expecting  accommodation.  Things  seemed  to  settle 
themselves  as  they  often  do,  however,  and  benches  in  the  dining 
room  helped  us  to  weather  the  trip. 

The  captain  of  the  Taksang  is  a  young  Irishman,  Gill  by 
name,  who  studied  under  the  Holy  Cross  Fathers  before  taking 
to  the  sea.  He  was  most  kind  and  helped  not  a  little  to  make  our 
passage  a  pleasant  one.  The  down  voyage  takes  a  little  over  two 
days  and  we  made  one  stop,  at  Hainan,  a  large  island  where  our 

246 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Dublin  friend  alighted  to  go  home  to  his  Chinese  wife.  He  was  a 
good-natured  butcher  who  has  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart,  and 
some  more  or  less  excellent  meat,  for  the  Chinese  among  whom 
he  dwells.  He  had  been  to  Hongkong  to  buy  a  motorboat  so  as 
to  establish  in  Hainan  a  river  service  that  will  benefit,  among 
others,  two  lone  priests  who  live  among  the  million  inhabitants 
of  the  island,  and  he  declared  that  Hainan  would  satisfy  all  his 
ambitions  and  aspirations  for  ten  years  to  come. 

We  sailed  from  Hainan  out  of  the  Straits,  across  the  Gulf 
of  Tongking.  Sunday  morning  at  ten  o'clock  we  took  in  a 
pilot  and  coursed  up  the  river  to  Haiphong,  which  we  reached, 
too  late  for  Mass,  at  about  one  o'clock. 

With  Maryknoll  Patrons. 

Two  magnets  had  drawn  me  to  Tongking,  in  Indo-China — the 
memory  of  Blessed  Th^ophane  V^nard,  Martyr,  and  a  debt  of 
gratitude  which  our  young  Society  owed  to  the  Prefect  Apostolic 
of  Langson,  Father  Bertrand  Cothonay,  O.  P. 

Theophane  Venard  had  been  ordained  in  Paris  with  the  late 
Abbe  Hogan,  the  distinguished  Sulpician  who,  as  first  president 
of  St.  John's  Seminary,  Boston,  Massachusetts,  had  interested 
his  students  in  the  young  martyr  of  Tongking.  Later,  in  France, 
I  had  met  the  martyr's  brother,  the  venerable  Cure  of  Assais, 
Canon  Eusebius  Venard.  Again,  as  several  vocations  for  our 
work  had  developed  from  the  reading  of  Blessed  Venard's  life, 
the  Directors  of  Maryknoll  placed  this  young  martyr  among  its 
patrons  and  named  in  his  honor  the  first  apostolic  school,  near 
Scranton,  Pennsylvania. 

Tongking,  as  the  scene  of  Theophane  Venard's  martyrdom, 
was  certainly  an  attraction.  I  doubt,  however,  if  I  should 
have  made  this  journey  for  that  reason  alone,  because  much 
remained  to  be  done  in  Kwangtung,  and  besides,  Maryknoll 
was  beckoning  from  across  the  Pacific.  There  was,  as  I  have 
said,  another  attraction  in  Tongking. 

Before  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of  America 
came  into  being  Father  Cothonay,  then  Prior  of  some  exiled 
French  Dominicans  at  Hawthorne,  New  York,  was  pushing 
its  present  Superior  to  make  a  start,  and  before  "Maryknoll" 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

was  set  up  in  type  its  organizers  were  housed  under  the  hospitable 
roof  of  this  same  Father  Cothonay,  where  they  actually  began 
their  first  campaign,  remaining  until  they  could  lease  a  small 
house  in  the  vicinity.  Father  Cothonay  was  then  called 
by  his  superiors  to  Switzerland  and  later  named  Prefect-Apostolic 
of  Langson  in  Tongking,  a  country  with  which  he  was  already 
familiar,  having  exercised  the  ministry  in  Haiphong  for  several 
years. 

When  we  dropped  anchor  at  Haiphong,  therefore,  I  looked 
for  this  friend  in  the  numerous  sampans  that  flocked  towards 
our  boat.  He  was  missing,  but  we  had  not  reached  the  shore 
before  one  of  my  companions  recognized  on  an  approaching 
sampan  the  familiar  combination  of  beard  and  black  cassock, 
distinguishing  marks  of  Catholic  missioners  in  the  Far  East,  and 
I  knew  that  it  must  be  Father  Cothonay.  So  it  was.  Both 
sampans  soon  grazed  the  beach  and  I  was  at  home  in  the  land 
of  Venard. 

Haiphong  has  the  appearance  of  a  neat,  prosperous,  French 
city  with  wide  streets,  attractive  public  buildings,  comfortable- 
looking  private  houses,  well-equipped  hotels,  a  large  theatre, 
and  about  every  conceivable  convenience  for  its  French  residents, 
of  whom,  in  normal  times,  there  are  more  than  five  thousand. 
Rickshaws,  however,  and  the  turbaned  natives  pull  one  im- 
mediately back  to  the  Far  East  and  a  short  drive  in  any  direction 
discloses  rice-fields  and  villages  that  make  up  so  large  a  portion 
of  all  Tongking. 

The  Cathedral  is  not  far  from  the  river  and  Father  Cothonay 
brought  me  there  without  delay,  while  Father  Duffy  went  to  the 
police  station — a  necessary  precaution  these  days — and  then 
took  his  train  for  Hanoi,  several  hours  further  west.  The 
Cathedral  in  Haiphong  is  large  and  clumsily  built,  but  solid. 
A  campanile  which  Father  Cothonay  erected  when  he  was 
stationed  at  Haiphong  redeems  the  appearance  of  the  church, 
and  the  simple  lines  of  the  monastery,  with  a  well-organized 
garden,  make  the  Mission-compound  interesting  to  the  casual 
observer. 

But  there  is  more  to  consider  here  than  architectural  effects. 
This  is  the  heart  of  a  large  Dominican  Mission  and  it  gave  me 

248 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  first  glimpse  of  an  institution  common  to  all  the  vicariates 
of  Tongking  and  known  as  the  House  of  God.  We  paid  our 
respects  to  the  visible  master  of  this  house,  Bishop  Ruys,  a 
Spaniard,  who  bade  us  welcome,  and  as  soon  as  our  baggage  was 
settled  we  made  a  brief  visit  to  the  invisible  Master  and  to  his 
subjects  in  those  sacred  precincts.  These  were  priests  (European 
and  native),  catechists,  and  aspirants,  all  living  together  in  a 
spirit  of  work  and  prayer  and  all  supported  from  a  common  fund. 

As  we  planned  to  leave  for  Hanoi  early  the  next  morning 
a  friend  of  Father  Cothonay  made  Sunday  afternoon  profitable 
by  a  drive  behind  two  merry  little  ponies  who  ran  us  up  and 
down  the  city,  out  along  the  rice-fields,  through  a  park  with 
its  zoo,  and  back  to  the  Cathedral  in  time  for  Benediction. 

The  high  Gothic  church  was  dimly  lighted,  but  a  wave  of 
prayer  was  sweeping  through  it  towards  the  sanctuary  and  the 
brightness  of  the  Presence  of  Christ  was  there.  I  had  entered 
towards  the  rear  and  found  myself  in  a  place  between  the  men  and 
women.  The  men  wore  their  turbans,  the  women  likewise,  and 
many  little  ones  were  dressed  like  their  parents.  The  Benedic- 
tion hymns  were  sung  that  afternoon  by  some  European  voices, 
but  after  the  hush  of  the  Benediction  itself  a  humming  sound 
came  to  my  ears,  breaking  in  a  moment  into  a  soft  rapid  chant 
and  falling  back  again  into  the  hum,  which  gradually  ceased 
when  the  Laudate  Dominum  began. 

The  Annamites — this  is  the  general  name  for  the  natives 
of  all  Tongking — like  the  Japanese,  Korean,  and  Chinese 
Christians,  love  to  recite  their  prayers  aloud.  Already  I  have 
become  so  accustomed  to  this  practise  that  I  hardly  remark  it 
now,  even  when  the  noise — for  such  it  is  at  times — is  deafening. 
It  is  their  way  of  saying  prayers,  as  I  believe  I  have  already 
written,  and  when  this  is  realized  one  feels  decidedly  sympathetic 
towards  the  practice.  The  unusual  chant  at  Benediction,  which  I 
heard  again  after  the  Consecration  at  Mass,  was  simply  the 
Latin  of  My  Lord  and  My  God. 

A  somewhat  similar  chant  I  afterwards  remarked  during 
the  distribution  of  Holy  Communion  and  I  understand  that 
at  this  period  of  the  service  the  prayer  consists  of  the  words : 

Domine,  nan  sum  dignus — Lord,  I  am  not  worthy. 

249 


OBSERVAT I ONS   IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  Annamites  are  never  in  a  hurry  to  leave  the  church  and 
they  often  remain  for  hours  at  prayers.  Simple  and  devout, 
they  are  a  consolation  to  the  missioners  who  work  among  them 
and  it  is  difficult  to  picture  them  hunting  and  killing  priests. 
The  story  of  the  Martyrs  of  Tongking  is  a  long  one  but  anybody 
who  comes  into  relation  with  these  Annamites  feels  that  in  those 
days  "they  knew  not  what  they  did."  The  blood  of  the  martyrs, 
however,  has  already  pushed  to  maturity  an  abundant  fruitage 
and  the  missions  of  Tongking  are  today  often  referred  to  as  the 
most  consoling  in  the  Far  East. 

I  left  the  church  by  the  front  door  and,  once  outside,  observed 
leisurely.  The  prevailing  color  of  dress  here  is  brown,  a  reddish 
brown,  rather  disagreeable  in  contrast  to  the  grays  and  good 
browns  of  Japan  and  the  blues  of  China.  This  brown  is  especially 
common  in  the  poorer  classes. 

We  were  in  the  first  days  of  the  Chinese  New  Year  which  is 
also  that  of  the  Annamites,  and  everybody  was  exhibiting  his 
best  clothes  or  her  best  clothes  as  the  case  might  be.  The  better 
dressed  men  wear  a  black  coat  of  thin  cloth,  buttoned  diagonally 
across  the  breast  and  reaching  to  the  knees,  with  wide,  white 
pantaloons,  white  socks,  and  black  shoes.  Around  the  forehead 
and  covering  the  base  of  the  head  they  wind  a  long  folded  cloth 
into  a  turban  that  leaves  the  top  of  the  head  exposed.  The 
women  wear  dresses  well  below  the  knees.  They  do  love  big 
hats  and  even  the  poorest  can  be  seen  with  one  on  her  head 
or  carrying  it.  This  hat  seems  to  be  well  made  and  its  diameter 
would  easily  equal  that  of  a  flour-barrel  top. 

But — nearly  every  mouth  is  in  movement,  disclosing  black 
caverns.  These  good  people  have  a  strange  habit  of  getting 
their  teeth  enameled  a  blue-black,  and  they  also  chew  the 
betel-nut  which,  like  tobacco  under  a  similar  process,  requires 
frequent  expectoration  and  often  stains  the  corners  of  the 
mouth.  The  results  can  be  imagined  and  you  have  only  to 
picture  a  row  of  grinning  school  girls  in  Tongking  with  black 
mouths.  These  habits  will  probably  disappear,  but  slov/ly. 
Perhaps  if  some  American  gum  concern  would  ship  a  large 
consignment  for  trial  it  would  hasten  the  day. 

250 


ALTAR   BOYS  WHO  ARE   MEMBERS   OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  GOD 


THE   CATHEDRAL   AND    BISHOPS   HOUSE   AT   HAilTiUXG 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

In  a  Land  of  Martyrs. 

Trains  are  not  numerous  in  Tongking  but  they  start  early, 
and  we  were  up  not  long  after  four  o'clock  on  Monday  so  as  to 
get  through  Mass  and  move  towards  Hanoi. 

The  railroad  station  is  imposing  and  the  car  we  entered, 
quite  equal  to  European  rolling-stock,  was  divided  into  three 
classes,  all  connected  by  a  corridor,  with  a  lavatory  and  observa- 
tion platform  (without  chairs).  Missioners  here  usually  travel 
in  the  third  class  which,  if  not  crowded,  is  quite  as  comfortable 
as  the  others,  lacking  only  cushions;  and  there  is  a  fourth  class 
for  the  rank  and  file  among  the  Annamites. 

We  were  soon  running  through  rice-fields  of  the  delta,  a 
fertile  well-watered  region  that  gives  two  crops  of  the  precious 
grain  every  year;  and  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  many 
churches  around  Haiphong  itself,  each  dominating  a  little  village. 
I  hoped  on  my  return  to  look  into  at  least  a  few  of  them,  but  just 
now  the  foot-prints  of  Theophane  V^nard  were  a  special  attrac- 
tion and  we  had  not  gone  many  miles  before  souvenirs  of  Tong- 
king martyrs  began  to  assert  themselves. 

As  our  train  stopped  at  a  place  called  Hai-Duong  Father 
Cothonay,  directing  my  attention  to  what  looked  like  a  small 
cemetery  with  a  substantial  mortuary  chapel,  explained  that 
three  Dominicans  had  been  martyred  on  the  spot  where  the 
chapel  containing  their  remains  now  stands.  We  had  no  time 
to  alight  and  say  a  prayer  at  this  shrine,  but  it  awakened  memor- 
ies in  Father  Cothonay,  who  has  made  a  close  study  of  the  mar- 
tyrs of  Tongking,  a  subject  on  which  he  loves  to  talk. 

Among  other  incidents  of  the  persecution  period  Father 
Cothonay  referred  to  the  martyrdom  at  Bac-Ningh  of  thirty- 
five  native  Christians,  priests  and  lay  people,  who  were  driven 
into  a  hole  and  buried,  after  which  elephants  were  brought  to 
tramp  the  loose  earth  over  them.  It  is  recorded  that  on  this 
occasion  the  elephants  persistently  held  back  and  the  king 
ordered  the  animals  to  be  killed.  The  Annamites,  puzzled  how 
to  accomplish  the  task,  did  so  finally  Vvith  some  cannon  balls. 

The  martyred  Christians  were  later  disinterred  and  identified 
by  their  betel-boxes,  which  fact  not  only  discloses  how  strong  a 
hold  the  practise  of  chewing  betel  has  upon  the  Annamites  but 

251 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

proves  that  a  habit  rather  disgusting  to  some  human  eyes  does 
not  necessarily  keep  a  man  from  being  a  martyr  in  the  sight  of 
God.  There  seems  to  be  hope,  then,  for  the  canonization  of 
even  those  who  in  life  were  lovers  of  "the  weed." 

Where  Theophane  Venard  Died. 

At  Hanoi,  the  city  which  we  were  approaching,  Theophane 
Venard  had  been  beheaded.  Across  the  river  that  flows  by 
Hanoi  a  long  bridge  of  iron  has  been  built  and  from  this  structure 
one  can  see  approximately,  not  far  from  the  bridge  itself,  the 
bank  of  earth  on  which  was  drawn  up,  February  2,  1861,  a  line 
of  soldiers,  backed  by  officials  on  royal  elephants,  and  a  host  of 
people,  among  whom  were  some  faithful  Christians,  all  spectators 
of  the  martyrdom.  It  was  hard  to  realize  as  we  passed  out  of 
the  large  and  well-appointed  railway  station,  into  the  Bishop's 
modest  little  carriage,  through  paved  streets  and  by  impressive 
modern  buildings,  that  Hanoi  had  been  so  recently  stained  by  the 
blood  of  Christian  martyrs. 

Again  the  proof  of  spiritual  fecundity  was  found  in  the 
Mission  enclosure,  another  House  of  God  presided  over  by  the 
venerable  Bishop  Gendreau  of  the  Paris  Society.  A  score  of 
buildings,  large  and  small,  occupied,  with  the  great  church, 
a  generous  portion  of  land  conveniently  placed  in  the  heart 
of  the  city:  and  here  we  met,  in  addition  to  the  several  priests 
of  the  establishment,  a  number  of  soldier-priests  who  have 
fortunately  been  retained  in  the  colony  Bishop  Gendreau  lives 
in  a  small,  poorly  furnished  house,  although  preparations  were 
far'advanced  a  few  years  ago  to  give  him  better  accommodations 
in  an  annex  to  a  building  used  for  priests'  retreats  and  guests. 
This  project  has  been  held  up  and  the  foundation  of  the  annex 
will  remain,  the  venerable  prelate  says,  for  his  successor  to 
develop. 

Father  Duffy  was  at  Hanoi  and  that  afternoon,  with  Father 
Cothonay  and  Father  Hebrard,  one  of  the  local  priests,  we  traced 
as '  best  we  could  the  procession  of  which  Theophane  Venard 
had  been  the  central  figure,  from  the  citadel  through  the  gate  to 
the  river  bank.  It  took  but  a  few  moments,  as  we  were  again  in 
the  Bishop's  carriage,  and  I  could  not  but  contrast  our  position 

252 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

with  that  of  the  young  martyr,  caged  and  anticipating  in  a  few 
moments  the  stroke  that  would  finish  his  earthly  life. 

The  Chinese  New  Year  was  beginning,  but  with  the  exception 
of  occasional  firecracker  explosions  it  seemed  like  Sunday. 
Everybody  who  had  respectable  clothes  wore  them.  Stores  were 
closed  and  no  one,  except  a  few  rickshaw  pullers,  seemed  to  be 
working. 

We  were  now  within  comparatively  easy  access  of  the 
village  where  Theophane  V^nard  was  captured,  and  after  several 
inquiries  we  planned  to  combine  this  visit  with  one  to  Phuyli, 
further  to  the  west,  where,  nearby  at  Keso,  we  could  see  the 
Seminary  of  this  flourishing  vicariate.  The  next  morning, 
therefore,  after  Masses  at  five  o'clock,  we  set  out  with  Father 
Hebrard,  having,  as  usual,  only  a  hazy  anticipation  of  what 
experience  the  day  would  bring. 

The  railway  line  follows  the  main  highway,  and  on  either 
side  of  these  two  arteries  of  travel  stretch  acres  of  rice-fields, 
apparently  without  limit  and  with  no  other  avenues  of  approach 
than  the  narrow  dykes  that  separate  them.  The  road  on  which 
we  looked  from  the  car-window,  improved  today  so  as  to  accom- 
modate the  invading  automobile,  was  that  along  which  Theo- 
phane Venard  had  been  carried  to  Hanoi.  When  about  an 
hour  out,  we  alighted  at  the  station  of  Dong-Van  and  took  some 
rickshaws — decidedly  shaky  and  shabby — which  brought  us 
along  the  railway  line  a  few  miles,  when  we  dismounted  at  a 
point  from  which  there  was  no  sign  of  habitation  or  crossroad. 
The  rickshaw  boys,  who  had  evidently  done  their  best  to  get 
us  to  our  destination,  now  studied  a  place  of  passage  across  the 
railroad  ditch,  and  when  they  found  it  one  remained  to  guard 
the  precious  vehicles  while  the  other  two  accompanied  us  over 
the  dykes.  Rain  of  the  previous  night  had  turned  the  uneven 
clay  into  a  juicy  mud,  over  which  we  slipped,  with  occasional 
narrow  escapes  from  falls  into  the  rice-paddies.  From  time  to 
time  we  met  passing  natives  but  nearly  all  were  celebrating 
the  New  Year  at  home. 

After  going  through  several  villages  and  over  what  seemed 
three  miles  of  dykes,  we  came  to  the  Christian  settlement  of 
Ke-beo,    the   object  of    our    pilgrimage.      We    were    not;    of 

253 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN   THE    ORIENT 

course,  expected,  and  as  we  entered  the  opening  of  bamboo 
trees  with  which  the  little  village,  like  others  here,  is  surrounded, 
the  surprised  natives  saluted  and  followed  in  our  train  to  discover 
what  it  was  all  about.  Father  Hebrard's  costume — an  Annamite 
cassock  and  helmet  hat — was  familiar,  but  the  two  strangers  were 
doubtless  a  puzzle — in  raincoats  and  felt  hats,  with  pantaloons 
pushed  into  their  socks,  and  mud  up  to  their  ankles,  not  to  speak 
about  a  flame  of  red  whiskers  on  the  one  or  the  not  less  remark- 
able omission  of  a  beard  on  the  other. 

Fortunately  for  us,  the  two  native  priests  who  administer 
from  the  centre  to  a  large  district  were  at  home  for  the  holidays 
and  when  we  discovered  that  we  should  not  occasion  starvation 
to  them  we  decided  to  stay  for  lunch. 

We  were  seated  by  this  time  in  places  of  honor  within  the 
walls  of  the  presbytery  (sic) — a  single-room  building  with  large 
openings  on  one  side — and  the  entire  village  had  gathered  for 
silent  observations. 

Tea  was  soon  before  us,  with  a  box  of  little  cigars  made  in 
the  neighborhood.  Receptacles  of  rough  brass  in  the  shape 
of  small  cuspidors  were  also  provided  on  the  table,  and  we 
were  offered  some  betel  mixed  with  lime  and  wrapped  in 
small  green  leaf  for  a  "chew"  before  lunch.  We  dissected  the 
combination,  to  the  amusement  of  the  spectators,  but  waited 
until  we  got  outside  before  we  tried  the  stuff — and  the  test  was 
very  brief. 

As  the  native  priests  were  most  anxious  to  give  us  every 
possible  honor  they  asked  if,  before  seeing  the  spot  where 
Theophane  V^nard  was  captured,  we  would  accept  a  New  Year's 
salutation  from  the  villagers.  Our  modesty — or  lack  of  ii  if 
you  will — would  not  permit  us  to  refuse  and  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  a  program  had  begun  that  could  hardly  have  been  better 
with  long  preparation.  Musicians  were  in  the  lead,  with  instru- 
ments such  as  I  had  never  seen  nor  heard.  Behind  them  came 
the  elders  of  the  village  and  boys  carrying  two  immense  umbrellas, 
and  bringing  up  the  rear  were  fathers,  mothers,  sons,  daughters, 
babies  and  barking  dogs. 

The  native  priests  busied  themselves  keeping  the  crowd  away 
from  the  opening,  along  which  straw  mats  were  being  spread  for 

254 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

■Hi 

the  ceremony,  which  consisted  of  a  speech  from  the  leading 
man  who,  when  it  was  over,  knelt  with  the  other  elders  and 
made  solemn  bows.  The  women  did  likewise  after  the  "leading 
lady"  had  uttered  a  few  words,  and  in  the  meantime  Father 
Duffy  and  I  looked  wise,  as  if  we  understood  it  all  quite  as  well 
as  our  companion  and  guide.  Then  a  choice  lot  of  firecrackers 
was  set  off  and  the  musicians  started  the  procession,  in  which 
everybody  joined.  With  socks  still  outside  of  our  pantaloons, 
and  boots  yellow  with  mud,  we,  the  notables,  stepped  under  the 
canopy  of  the  mandarins  and  solemnly  proceeded,  first  to  the 
church — a  small  building  Annamite  in  its  construction  and  interior 
decoration,  which  is  particularly  rich  in  lacquer. 

From  the  church  we  continued  over  a  pathway  of  flat  stones 
imbedded  in  mud  until,  after  a  few  moments,  we  turned  into  a 
neat  little  corner  of  the  village  and  stood  before  a  typical  Anna- 
mite hut,  long,  low,  and  dark,  not  unlike  the  house  of  the  priest. 
These  huts  are  built,  as  a  rule,  of  clay,  hardened  in  the  sun  and 
covered  with  thatch.  They  have  openings  only  at  the  front 
and  are  without  either  windows  or  doors.  A  straw  matting 
usually  gives  what  privacy  is  desired  and  a  few  bars  across  the 
opening  will  keep  out  soft-stepping  pilferers. 

Such  houses  do  not  stand  for  many  years,  and  that  in  which 
Theophane  Venard  was  hiding  when  arrested  has  disappeared, 
but  the  type  has  not  changed,  and  the  exact  site  on  which  the 
house  stood  has  been  marked  by  the  Mission  with  a  slab  bearing, 
under  the  monogram  of  Christ,  some  Annamite  inscriptions 
and  these  words: 

Wt  ?@catus!  tlDfieopfianus  "^enarb 

3[  ISerSetutorilJus  Captus  Cfit. 

XXX  M©!^.    a.  19.  i«C©©©lLX. 

We  decided  to  take  a  few  photographs  at  this  juncture,  a 
trying  operation  in  more  senses  than  one.  The  Annamites,  like 
all  the  children  of  the  Orient,  become  intensely  interested  in  the 
make-up  of  a  camera.  They  are  at  the  same  time,  especially  if 
free  from  superstition  in  regard  to  being  photographed,  anxious 
to  be  taken.  Between  these  two  desires  the  operator  is  at  his 
wits'  end  unless  he  knows  the  language.  The  Annamite  parish 
priests  settled  our  difficulty  by  the  use  of  a  switch,  which  the 

255 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


youngsters  evidently  recognized  as  an  old  but  undesirable 
friend.  The  priests  also  managed  with  difficulty  to  extricate 
a  poor  wrinkled  old  woman  who  had  ministered  to  the  wants  of 
our  young  martyr  while  he  remained  hidden,  and  to  group 
around  her  the  numerous  relatives  of  the  family  which, 
at  the  risk  of  their  own  lives,  had  provided  shelter  for  him.  When 
the  camera  was  closed  the  procession  formed  again  and  we  went 
back  to  the  rectory  for  lunch. 

A   New  Year's  Lunch. 

Our  hosts  did  not  share  this  meal  with  us  and  the  congrega- 
tion did  not  return  to  their  homes  for  their  own  noon-day 
repast,  because  these  people  have  no  such  institution.  Twice  a 
day  they  get  at  their  rice  and  fixings,  if  they  are  fortunate 
enough  to  have  a  supply,  and  with  these  rations  they  are  so 
well  satisfied  that  they  could  watch  us  eat  with  positive  enjoy- 
ment and  without  a  temptation  to  envy. 

So  while  we  ate,  the  Annamite  priests  saw  to  it  that  the  best 
they  had  for  their  New  Year  should  be  set  before  us  with  the 
least  possible  delay,  and  the  people  crowded  again  around  the 
opening  to  enjoy  the  "movies."  We  gave  a  splendid  exhibition 
and  Father  Duffy,  who  is  not  naturally  inclined  to  pay  compli- 
ments, marveled  at  the  skill  I  had  acquired  in  pushing  rice  with 
a  couple  of  chopsticks.  I  don't  remember  what  we  had  on  that 
occasion,  although  we  drank  only  tea,  but  there  was  a  plentiful 
supply,  including  fowl,  vegetables,  rice  cakes,  and  even  home- 
made candy — all  of  which  we  took  with  a  relish. 

Like  every  performance,  this  one  came  to  an  end  in  time, 
much  to  the  regret  of  the  spectators,  who  compelled  us  to  "go 
away  slowly."  Before  doing  so,  however,  I  managed  at  the 
church  to  get  a  small  souvenir  for  the  Venard  School  from  the 
parish  priest,  to  whom  I  promised  in  return  a  statue  of  the 
martyr.  The  children  stayed  with  us  the  longest,  following  as 
closely  as  they  could  in  their  little  bare  feet  over  the  rough  and 
slippery  dykes,  and  cheering  us  every  few  moments.  Again  the 
contrast  came  home  to  me  between  our  exit  from  this  little 
village  and  that  of  Th^ophane  Venard.  We  were  cheered  by 
friends  and  he  was  hooted  by  enemies.    And  yet  his  gayety,  I 

256 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

recalled,  had  been  unsubdued,  for  he  was  the  kind  that  goes 
singing  to  death. 

The  rickshaws  were  intact  when  we  arrived,  and  our  little 
men  trotted  westward  again,  prepared  to  cover  five  miles,  on 
bare  feet  at  that.  We  dismounted  occasionally  and  walked, 
so  as  to  give  them  relief,  although  Father  Hebrard  assured  me 
that  they  were  well  content  to  drag  us  all  the  way.  I  have  been 
in  rickshaws  scores  of  times  now  but  I  never  feel  at  ease  with  a 
man  pulling  me  on  an  up-hill  grade  or  for  a  very  long  distance, 
so  that  I  was  especially  relieved  when  we  reached  the  parish  of 
Phuyli  and  paid  ofif  our  trotters. 

Well-Developed  Missions. 

At  Phuyli,  where  I  expected  to  find  a  few  huts,  there  were 
again  respectable  streets,  some  European  houses,  and  a  sub- 
stantial church  that  would  do  credit  to  any  large  town  of  the 
United  States.  The  pastor  was  holding  an  "at  home"  on  the  veran- 
da of  a  simple  structure,  receiving  New  Year's  gifts  from  his 
parishioners,  who  were  squatted  on  the  ground  chewing  betel 
and  chatting  with  Father.  The  Father's  helmet  shaded  a  pair 
of  keen  eyes  and  a  grizzly  beard — not  to  enumerate  other 
features — and  he  asked  questions  until  he  felt  that  he  had 
grasped  the  purpose  of  my  appearance  in  this  part  of  the  world, 
after  which  he  shot  more  questions  at  Father  Duffy.  When  the 
interview  was  over  and  a  cup  of  tea  disposed  of,  this  thoughtful 
man,  taking  another  survey  of  us,  discovered  the  shocking 
condition  of  our  shoes  and  set  two  boys  to  work  at  them  before 
he  would  let  us  go.  We  had  yet  some  miles  to  travel  before 
reaching  the  Seminary  at  Ke-so,  our  destination  for  the  night, 
and  when  our  visit  to  the  church  was  completed  we  secured  three 
local  rickshaws,  arriving  at  Ke-so  before  sunset. 

Ke-so  lies  off  the  main  road,  near  a  range  of  mountains  that 
run  through  Tongking  into  China.  These  mountains  of  lime- 
stone, grotesque  in  form  and  filled  with  caves,  provided  an 
explanation  for  the  establishment  of  the  Mission  and  Seminary 
at  this  somewhat  inconvenient  site.  The  Mission  of  Ke-so  was 
started  immediately  after  the  persecution  in  which  Theophane 
V^nard  and  other  priests  from  the  Paris  Seminary  were  martyred, 

257 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

and  as  the  times  were  yet  perilous  it  was  thought  best  to  place 
it  near  the  mountains,  where  retreat  was  possible  with  a  fair 
chance  of  security  in  the  caves.  Gradually  the  Mission  developed 
until  it  became  an  imposing  centre,  too  costly  to  think  of  trans- 
planting nearer  the  railway. 

We  had  left  the  turnpike  and  were  running  towards  the 
mountain  range  about  twenty  minutes  when,  as  we  emerged 
from  a  shaded  spot,  we  saw  the  towers  of  a  large  church  rising 
above  an  extensive  village  which  we  soon  reached. 

The  church  at  Ke-so,  where  the  coadjutor  Bishop,  Monsignor 
Bigolet,  makes  his  headquarters,  is  quite  as  massive  as  an  ordinary 
cathedral.  It  is  roughly  constructed  on  the  outside  but  solid 
and  durable  and  should  hold  two  thousand  Annamites.  Bishop 
Bigolet  was  very  cordial  and  when  he  realized  that  we  would 
leave  in  the  morning  lost  no  time,  so  that  under  his  direction  we 
at  once  inspected  this  House  of  God — a  surpassingly  large 
establishment,  covering  many  acres  and  including  at  least 
twenty  buildings.  The  personnel  was  made  up  of  ten  French 
missioners,  eight  native  priests  serving  the  surrounding  villages, 
sixty  seminarians,  thirty  Brothers,  forty  catechists,  twenty  little 
aspirants  from  the  parish,  and  some  thirty  domestics  or  farm 
workers.  Besides  this  large  community  there  was  nearby  a 
hospital  conducted  by  three  Sisters  of  St.  Paul  de  Chartres  and 
a  house  of  eighty-five  Annamite  Sisters,  known  as  Amantes  de 
la  Croix  (Lovers  of  the  Cross). 

We  finished  the  inspection  just  in  time  for  Benediction,  which 
was  attended  by  a  large  congregation.  At  its  close,  on  the  way 
to  the  refectory,  all  the  members  of  the  House  of  God  assembled 
before  the  statue  of  Our  Blessed  Lady  at  a  little  Lourdes  Grotto 
where  the  Ave  Maris  Stella  was  chanted  alternately  by  priests 
and  seminarians.  The  still  young  Bishop  stood  in  the  centre 
that  evening,  and  as  I  looked  at  him  surrounded  by  his  faithful 
priests,  there  came  home  to  me  with  an  unusual  impressiveness 
the  thought  of  all  the  sacrifices  that  had  been  made  here  in  the 
Far  East  by  men  and  women  of  the  West  for  the  conversion 
of  souls.  Yet  from  no  one  of  them  had  I  heard  a  word  of  com- 
plaint or  the  expression  of  a  longing  to  return  to  his  or  her 
native  land.    In  the  eyes  of  those  who  do  not  know  them  the 

258 


AN  ANNAMITE  PRIEST 


PERE  COTHONAY  AND   HIS  SEMINARIANS  AT  LANGSON 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

children  of  the  Orient  are  a  negligible  quantity,  but  to  one  who 
sees  the  image  of  God  in  every  man  and  who  knows  that  God 
wishes  all  men  to  be  saved,  the  exile's  sacrifice  is  worth  while, 
and  it  brings  its  consolations  even  here  below. 

I  would  gladly  have  prolonged  my  stay  at  Ke-so,  but  our 
schedule  said  no  and  we  were  up  shortly  after  four  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  Ash  Wednesday,  for  the  journey  back  to 
Hanoi. 

Our  rickshaw  men  had  stayed  over  night  in  some  corner  and 
were  waiting  for  us  after  Mass.  They  were  fresh  and  ran  well 
on  a  fairly  level  road,  bringing  us  back  to  Phuyli  just  as  our 
train  was  pulling  in  from  the  west.  Here  we  said  good-bye  to 
Father  Gavan  DufTy,  who,  after  two  years*  absence  from  his 
Mission,  was  returning  to  India.  We  left  him  waiting  for 
another  train  which  would  enable  him  to  visit  Phat-diem,  the 
seat  of  a  third  vicariate,  from  which  point  he  planned  to  go  by 
an  all-day  automobile  trip  towards  the  south,  where  he  could 
get  accommodations  for  Saigon. 

Father  Hebrard  and  I  settled  down  to  a  couple  of  hours' ride, 
and  as  we  looked  out  into  the  unoccupied  fields  we  realized  that 
the  Chinese  New  Year  had  not  yet  passed.  The  oxen,  like  their 
masters,  were  asleep  or  standing  idle ;  children  were  riding  on  the 
backs  of  some  of  these  animals,  and  on  one  a  boy  was  stretched 
at  full  length  fast  asleep,  with  a  coverlet  of  straw  protecting 
his  back  from  a  fine  rain  that  had  been  falling.  Pagodas  looked 
out  at  us  coldly  from  under  the  great  trees  whose  shelter  they  so 
often  seek,  and  crosses  from  distant  steeples  warmed  our  hearts 
with  the  reflection  that  the  sacrifices  of  Christ  and  of  His  fol- 
lowers have  not  been  in  vain  in  this  distant  land. 

As  we  slowed  down  at  the  stations  we  could  invariably 
notice  people  passing  along  the  road  laden  with  little  packages 
of  paper  supposed  to  represent  money,  which  they  were  bringing 
to  the  temples  to  be  burned  so  as  to  provide  the  wherewithal 
for  the  worshipful  souls  of  their  ancestors.  I  also  remarked 
designs  in  chalk  before  the  doors  of  houses,  figures  which  my 
companion  told  me  were  drawn  to  keep  the  devil  patient; 
because  these  pagans  live  in  a  world  of  superstitions,  which  they 
meet  and  note  with  dread  at  every  turn. 

259 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


The  Tongkinese,  however,  is  not  always  worrying  about  his 
gods  or  his  devils.  He  has  other  preoccupations,  which  include 
his  clothing,  on  which,  if  he  can  afford  it,  and  even  when  he 
cannot,  he  is  quite  willing  to  spend  a  considerable  proportion 
of  his  year's  earnings.  A  typical  pair  of  well-dressed  "country 
sports"  sat  opposite  us  on  this  return  trip  and  for  lack  of  better 
occupation  I  took  observations  from  toe  to  top,  with  the  following 
result : 

Socks — sage  green. 

Trousers — white  cotton,  very  wide. 

Coats — outside,  of  embroidered  black  silk,  lined  with  light 
blue  and  fastened  with  gold  buttons  at  the  neck;  inside,  two 
coats  of  bright  colors,  similar  in  form  to  the  outside,  the  flaps 
being  adroitly  turned  so  as  to  disclose  the  possession  of  both. 

Head-gear — black  silk  turban. 

This  youth  also  displayed  occasionally,  under  the  outside 
coat,  a  belt  of  pig-skin  in  which  he  kept  his  purse  and  cigarettes, 
and  he  was  quite  up-to-date,  with  unblacked  teeth  and  the 
latest  magazine  on  Annamite  production. 

We  arrived  at  Hanoi  early  enough  that  morning,  Tuesday, 
February  12,  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to  visit  Father  Aubert, 
whose  sister  is  the  Superioress  of  a  convent  school  near  Boston. 
On  the  electric  car  that  brought  us  to  his  Mission  we  met  a 
white-gloved  mandarin  from  the  north  of  Tongking,  whose 
French  was  quite  as  correct  as  his  dress — and  this  was  saying 
much — but  whose  little  wife,  with  a  black  mouth  and  a  rather 
stupid  expression,  did  not  apparently  add  much  to  the  glory  of 
her  consort.  On  this  occasion,  becoming  weary  of  listening  to 
a  strange  tongue,  she  removed  her  slippers,  folded  her  feet  under 
her,  and  took  a  nap. 

Father  Aubert  has  the  "best  parish  in  the  diocese,"  with  two 
solid  churches  almost  in  view  of  each  other,  a  substantial 
residence,  many  out-missions,  and  a  staff  of  native  clergy.  I 
saw  the  interior  of  one  church.  It  was  not  rich  but  it  gave 
evidence  of  a  prosperity  that  speaks  much  for  the  generosity  of 
these  people.  In  some  parts  of  Tongking  where  there  are  wealthy 
Catholics  the  church  interiors  are,  I  was  told,  rich  in  lacquer 
and  gold. 

260 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  am  beginning  to  realize  that  some  Catholic  missions  of 
the  Far  East  are  no  new  undertakings  and  that  Catholic  life 
has  so  advanced  as  to  make  great  developments  yet  possible 
with  proper  direction,  constant  zeal,  and  the  cooperation  of 
the  faithful  on  the  missions  themselves.  Greater  results  could 
have  been  accomplished  had  the  means  of  propaganda  been  more 
generously  supplied,  and  one  French  priest  with  whom  I  spoke 
expressed  his  conviction  that  if  the  French  Government  had 
seen  its  way  to  help  the  Church  in  her  evangelization  all  of 
Tongking  would  now  be  Catholic.  Tongking  is  a  field,  I  may 
add,  which  Protestantism  has  hardly  attempted  to  invade. 

A  Confessor  of  the  Faith. 

We  returned  to  Bishop  Gendreau's  for  lunch,  where  Father 
Cothonay  was  awaiting  us;  but  before  leaving  for  Langson  at 
two  o'clock  I  had  an  opportunity  to  chat  with  Father  Martin,  a 
missioner  from  a  neighboring  vicariate  who  has  been  here 
thirty-four  years  and  who  had  a  personal  acquaintance  with 
fellow-sufferers  of  Theophane  V^nard.  Among  these  was  a 
confessor  of  the  Faith,  Father  Matheron,  who  died  in  1895  from 
leprosy  contracted  during  his  confinement. 

Father  Matheron  had  been  confined  for  sixteen  months  in  a 
cage  during  the  persecution  and  was  just  about  to  be  put  to 
death  as  the  French  troops  arrived.  When  taken  from  his 
prison,  where  he  had  always  maintained  a  sitting  posture,  he  was 
covered  with  vermin  and  his  hands  were  bent  as  with  palsied  old 
age.  He  discovered,  soon  afterwards,  signs  of  leprosy,  and, 
urged  by  his  superiors,  sought  a  cure  at  Lourdes.  His  stay  in 
France  was  limited  to  a  few  weeks  at  his  own  suggestion,  and 
after  a  trial  of  Lourdes,  concluding  that  the  Blessed  Virgin  did 
not  think  it  best  to  intercede  for  him,  he  returned  to  his  Mission, 
settling  down  near  Ke-so  in  a  little  village  where  he  was  nursed 
until  death  by  an  old  catechist. 

Speaking  of  Father  Matheron's  last  moments.  Father  Martin 
who  was  present  told  me  that  several  of  the  confreres  had  in  turn 
suggested  useful  and  elevating  thoughts,  telling  him  that  the 
end  would  soon  come,  that  he  would  be  with  God,  that  they 
would  be  praying  for  him  and  would  offer  Masses  for  his  soul. 

261 


OBSERVAT I  ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Suddenly  the  old  priest's  eyes  lighted  as  with  fire,  and  in  a 
strong  voice  he  uttered  the  names  of  those  who  had  suffered 
with  him  during  the  persecution: 

"Retord — V'enard — Bonnard — Schoeffler — ah,  bientotnous  allons 
rire  ensemble!    (Ah,  soon  we  shall  be  laughing  together!)" 

How  simply  do  faith  and  charity  meet  hope  in  the  going 
out  of  a  truly  Christian  soul! 


262 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XVII 

AT   THE    FRONTIER   OF   CHINA 

ERE  COTHONAY  lives  at  Langson,  well  up  in  the 
north  of  Tongking,  about  five  hours  by  rail  from 
Hanoi,  and  it  was  not  very  long  before  we  left 
the  rich  lowlands  of  the  delta  and  were  running 
through  valleys  bordered  with  high  hills.  We  were 
climbing  gradually  into  a  mountain  region,  sparsely 
peopled,  that  occupies  an  extensive  portion  of 
upper  and  west  Tongking,  and  I  began  to  picture  the  occupations 
of  a  Catholic  missioner  self-exiled  in  the  heart  of  this  strange 
country.  He  would  certainly  have  to  spend  much  of  his  time  in 
traveling — and  as  a  rule  he  would  be  obliged  to  get  about  on 
horseback — but  at  home  how  would  he  pass  his  time  when 
catechism  lessons  and  necessary  occupations  were  over? 

I  put  the  question  to  my  companion,  who  confirmed  what 
every  experienced  missioner  advises,  and  answered,  "He  should 
have  a  hobby."  Then  Father  Cothonay  spoke  to  me  of  a  Paris 
Seminary  priest  in  a  neighboring  vicariate  who  for  fifteen  years 
has  remained  in  his  present  Mission,  fifty  miles  from  the  nearest 
priest  and  two  hundred  miles  from  any  centre  of  civilization. 
The  missioner  has  learned  four  dialects  and  prepared  two  valua- 
ble dictionaries  of  strange  languages  (Tho  and  Meo)  never  before 
recorded.  The  dictionaries  have  been  published  by  a  non-Catholic 
society  in  the  Far  East,  which  gave  the  priest  a  mere  pittance 
for  his  labor  of  years  but  enabled  him  to  do  what  a  lack  of  means 
would  otherwise  have  made  impossible. 

It  was  night  when  we  reached  Langson,  where  a  priest  with 
attendants  was  waiting  for  us,  and  we  had  but  a  few  steps  to  go 
before  reaching  our  "hotel,"  for  such  in  fact  was  formerly  the 
present  house  of  the  French  Dominican  priests  at  Langson. 

I  was  awakened  next  morning  by  the  chanting  of  prayers 
directly  under  my  room  and  I  realized  that  here,  as  in  China, 
six  o'clock  and  even  five-thirty  is  a  very  late  hour  for  rising  in 
the  Seminaries.  The  day  was  cloudy,  however,  and  this,  to- 
together  with  the  fact  that  I  was  a  traveler,  excused  my  late 
appearance. 

263 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Langson  in  the  Mountains. 

I  found  Langson  something  of  a  surprise.  I  had  visualized  a 
rather  large  and  dirty  village,  with  narrow  alleys  such  as  one 
might  find  in  almost  any  considerable  district  of  China;  but 
here  was  a  city  laid  out  for  the  future,  with  wide  streets  and 
substantial  structures  that  made  one  feel  that  he  would  find  an 
apothecary  shop  (or  a  chemist,  if  you  will)  at  the  next  corner 
and  blocks  of  stores  away  from  the  residential  boulevard.  But 
no! — the  railway  station,  customs  buildings,  post-office,  Resident 
Governor's  house,  a  small  hotel,  some  private  houses,  and — 
finished.  Some  day  Langson  may  arrive,  but  just  now  the 
French  Government  is  at  the  initial  investment  stage,  an  interest- 
ing period,  nevertheless,  in  the  experience  of  every  centre  of 
human  activities. 

Our  first  excursion  brought  us  to  the  post-office  and  to  the 
market-place,  on  our  way  to  see  a  tract  of  land  which  Father 
Cothonay  had  purchased  a  couple  of  years  before  "for  a  song" — 
and  a  few  dollars.  At  the  post-office  a  turbaned  Annamite 
youth  was  stamping  letters  and  speaking  French  as  if  his  ances- 
tors had  been  doing  likewise,  and  at  the  market-place  the  natives 
were  chewing  betel,  squatting  on  the  cold  earth  and  selling 
trifles  just  as  their  forbears  had  done  for  generations.  From 
the  market  we  found  rickshaws,  and  crossing  a  small  bridge 
reached  the  site  of  "Father  Cothonay 's  hope"  in  a  short  quarter- 
of-an-hour. 

This  "hope"  consists  of  several  acres  of  land,  including 
some  scores  of  protruding  boulders,  a  long  low  building  in  brick 
and  cement,  and  several  mud  huts,  all  backed  against  a  range 
of  limestone  hills.  Half-a-dozen  Christian  families  are  there 
and  each  has  his  rice-field  as  well  as  his  hut.  The  Mission  provides 
both,  and  in  return  the  Christians  give  a  portion  of  their  rice 
crop  to  the  Father,  so  that  there  is  no  loss  although  the  investment 
produces  a  very  small  margin  of  profit — one  or  two  percent — for 
the  Mission, — proof  that  Catholic  missioners  are  not  trying  to 
rob  their  parishioners.  Father  Cothonay  has  built  the  founda- 
tion of  a  church  for  this  new  settlement,  as  he  anticipates  a 
rapid  growth  if  he  can  win  his  monied  friends  to  the  colonization 
idea. 

264 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

The  huts  built  of  mud  and  thatch  provide  for  two  families 
and  cost  about  sixteen  dollars,  or  eight  dollars  for  each  family. 
A  rice-field  large  enough  to  supply  a  year's  grain  for  one  family 
adds  to  the  investment  fifty  dollars  more,  making  a  total  initial 
investment  for  each  family  of  about  sixty  dollars,  on  which, 
at  five  percent,  three  dollars  worth  of  interest  would  be  lost 
yearly  to  the  Mission,  which  is  more  than  compensated  for  by 
the  rice-crop  division  mentioned  above.  Father  Cothonay  plans 
to  build  the  new  church  with  mud,  but  I  urged  him  to  wait  for 
a  few  dollars  and  use  brick,  especially  if,  as  he  now  feels,  he 
expects  to  be  buried  within  its  walls. 

As  New  Year's  salutations  were  in  order  we  entered  the 
catechist's  reception  room — a  not  overclean  place — brushed  a 
spot  on  the  bench  and  sat  down,  while  the  families  gathered  to 
spread  their  mats  and  make  their  bows.  When  this  was  over 
Pere  Cothonay  gave  one  of  his  characteristic  sighs,  we  both 
grunted,  then  smiled,  and  sauntered  magnificently  down  to  the 
rickshaws  for  a  further  exploration  of  the  wonders  of  Langson. 
Wonders  there  certainly  are  in  the  limestone  caves  that 
honeycomb  these  mountains  of  northern  Tongking.  We  went 
into  one  which,  like  many  others,  had  been  turned  into  a  pagoda. 
It  was  like  a  fairy  scene,  with  its  massive  stalactites,  great 
hanging  pyramids  of  stone  carved  by  nature  into  grotesque 
forms,  giving  a  background  for  the  altar  and  its  hideous  gods. 
Passages  ran  into  the  mountain  from  several  points  and  they 
seemed  endless,  giving  a  good  idea  of  their  usefulness  as  hiding 
places  and  something  of  a  creepy  feehng  at  the  realization  of  the 
discomforts  suggested  by  them. 

We  passed  out  from  this  cave  of  Satan,  beautiful  yet  beastly, 
into  God's  sunshine,  and  as  we  did  so  Father  Cothonay  pointed 
to  other  caves  that  were  actually  occupied  as  living  quarters 
by  some  lepers  who  begged  on  the  road  from  passers-by,  but 
who  failed  to  come  out  and  importune  us — perhaps  because  they 
sensed  the  fact  that  we  were  fellow-mendicants.  Caves  and 
lepers,  bandits  and  pirates — what  thrills  these  magic  words 
once  gave  me  when,  as  a  youngster,  long  before  the  "movies" 
took  root  in  the  pockets  of  our  people,  I  heard,  not  to  say  read, 
of  such  things!     And  here  was  the  reality,  to  some  extent  at 

265 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

least,  failing  to  excite  an  imagination  that  has  been  growing 
cool  with  advancing  years. 

As  we  were  returning  to  the  "hotel"  Father  Cothonay  express- 
ed his  regret  that  I  could  not  meet  a  certain  one  of  his  parishioners 
whose  house  we  were  passing  and  who  happened  to  be  "out  of 
town  for  New  Year's."  This  parishioner,  an  Annamite  woman, 
is  as  yet  only  a  Christian  at  heart  and  not  by  baptism,  but  if 
her  zeal  continues  she  should  make  a  valiant  member  of  the 
Church  Militant. 

When  she  realized  for  the  first  time  that  her  gods  were  of  tin 
and  other  structural  material  she  went  back  to  her  house, 
pulled  from  the  wall  a  rather  valuable  painting  of  many  idols, 
and  was  about  to  burn  it,  when  Father  Cothonay  suggested  that 
a  place  in  New  York  State  called  Maryknoll  could  make  good  use 
of  it  as  a  horrible  example. 

And  my  host,  who  had  called  to  my  memory  the  little  office 
where  The  Field  Afar  editor  works  occasionally,  and  this  identical 
hanging  back  of  his  chair,  remarked  with  another  sigh  that  he 
had  never  learned  whether  or  not  the  thing  had  arrived  in 
America;  a  charge  that  was  repudiated  of  course,  because — well, 
could  any  priest  have  a  poor  reputation  in  the  matter  of  answer- 
ing letters?  Father  Cothonay  was  pleased  to  know  at  last  that 
his  gift  had  not  been  lost  in  transit. 

An  Afternoon  Trip  to  China. 

I  took  an  excursion  into  China  that  afternoon.  It  was  only 
about  ten  miles  to  the  end  of  the  railway  hut  and  a  short  half- 
mile  climb  brought  us  to  the  gateway  that  pierces  and  ornaments 
the  straggling  wall  of  this  extensive,  if  not  as  yet  great,  republic 
of  Asia.  One  of  the  priests  accompanied  me  and  Father  Cothonay 
gave  a  New  Year's  treat  to  a  few  of  the  "boys,"  who  were  in 
glee  at  the  opportunity  to  "see  China  and  die."  The  house-dog 
also  followed  us  into  the  train  but  my  companion,  Father  Brebion, 
refused  to  take  him,  on  the  ground  that  the  railroad  company 
charges  more  for  a  dog  than  for  an  Annamite. 

The  last  few  miles  of  this  short  journey  brought  us  through 
a  region  without  any  sign  of  human  life,  and  when  we  reached 
the  "great  door"  of  China  we  were  surprised  to  find  it  guarded 

266 


c 

I 
c 

o 

fa 
o 

w 
u 
iz 

h- 1 

> 
o 

K 
H 


W 

o 

I 

o 

Q 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

by  only  one  soldier,  who  was  too  sleepy  to  stand  as  we  passed 
over  the  line  that  separates  nations. 

There  was  not  much  to  see — the  outside  of  an  official's 
rather  imposing  European  house,  a  village  of  about  a  hundred 
persons,  a  dingy-looking  pagoda,  a  police-station,  and  some 
groups  of  silent  staring  Chinese — this  was  the  sum  of  attractions; 
certainly  a  poor  "day's  outing"  for  the  average  American  youth, 
especially  when  it  is  realized  that  there  was  not  on  the  premises 
anything  that  looked  like  a  refreshment  stand.  But  the  poor 
youths  who  came  with  us  seemed  happy,  storing  some  unsub- 
stantial memories.  Above  all  they  were  glad  to  be  safe  with 
"Europeans,"  to  whose  skirts  they  clung  quite  closely, 
with  evident  suspicion  of  the  strangers  within  whose  gates 
they  had  penetrated  for  the  first  time  in  their  uneventful 
lives. 

Auld  Lang  Syne. 

The  next  day  Father  Cothonay  and  I  made  another  sortie 
into  the  streets  of  Langson,  calling  on  various  distinguished 
personages,  from  the  Resident  (the  provincial  governor),  to  the 
proprietor  of  the  real  hotel,  examining  "future  hopes"  in  certain 
parcels  of  land  that  belonged  to  other  people,  and  winding  up 
the  morning  with  a  brief  reception  at  the  home  of  the  misfits, 
the  "miserables." 

The  "miserables"  are  so  named,  not  because  they  are  what 
they  are  through  their  own  fault,  but  because  there  is  no  place 
for  them  in  the  activities  of  Langson.  They  are  a  collection  of 
unfortunate  men,  women,  and  children,  blind,  crippled,  or 
silly,  in  some  cases  thrice-afiflicted,  who  live  in  huts  provided  by 
Father  Cothonay.  They  have  been  burned  out  several  times, 
so  that  recently  the  Government  insisted  on  a  substantial  roof 
in  place  of  straw  and  that  portion  of  their  establishment  is  now 
the  most  respectable  of  its  kind  in  the  vicinity. 

They  hobbled  out  to  meet  us,  led  us  to  one  of  the  huts, 
spread  mats,  and  made  noises  on  strange  instruments,  which  we 
endured  in  an  atmosphere  for  which  I  cannot  find  a  fitting 
adjective,  relieving  ourselves  finally  by  the  deposit  of  one 
Mexican  dollar  on  the  principal  instrument.     It  was  Father 

267 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Cothonay  who  made  this  contribution  and  he  told  them  to  get 
a  New  Year's  feast,  after  which  he  explained  to  me  that  the 
entire  group  is  supported  from  alms  gathered  by  a  certain  number 
who  go  out  regularly  into  the  town  for  this  purpose,  placing 
their  returns  conscientiously  in  a  common  fund.  It  was  raw 
and  cold  that  morning  and  I  still  have  a  recollection  of  one 
shivering  man  who  followed  us  a  few  paces  asking  for  clothing 
or  a  blanket. 

In  the  afternoon  we  listened  to  another  concert,  this  time 
from  the  students  in  the  House  of  God  under  the  direction  of 
a  Dominican  Father,  who  brought  more  music  out  of  an  ancient 
harmonium  made  near  Boston  than  I  had  heard  since  I  left  that 
city  of  symphonies.  The  Resident  called  after  the  concert  to 
return  our  visit,  and  I  could  not  but  contrast  the  elegance  of 
his  house  with  the  reception-room  into  which  he  was  ushered — 
the  Mission  refectory,  with  its  unadorned  walls  and  its  table 
covered  v/ith  cloth-of-marble,  brown  in  color  so  as  to  appear 
respectably  clean  even  after  many  years  of  use. 

Father  Cothonay  would  like  to  welcome  some  of  MaryknoU's 
sons  into  Tongking,  and  so  far  as  he  is  concerned  he  would 
tomorrow  give  them  the  half  of  his  territory,  much  of  which  he 
has  not  yet  seen.  And  I  don't  blame  him,  not  because  his 
Mission  is  remote  and  sparsely  settled,  but  because  as  Prefect- 
Apostolic  he  has  the  same  responsibility  for  souls  as  if  he  were  a 
bishop,  and  the  realization  that  for  lack  of  men  the  souls  entrusted 
to  him  are  not  cared  for  pains  his  priestly  heart.  But  if  Maryknoll 
should  accept  the  responsibility  what  could  be  done  to  provide 
priests?  I  had  to  remind  Father  Cothonay  that  Maryknoll  is 
only  six  years  old,  but  he  is  aware  that  we  expect  to  see  the  child 
a  man  one  of  these  days — and  then — God  knows. 

Written  on  the  door  of  my  host's  room  were  these  words: 

"Quodcumque  Jacitis  in  verbo  aut  in  opere,  omnia  in  nomine 
Jesu  Christi." — "Whatever  you  say  or  do,  let  it  be  all  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ." 

So  may  it  be  with  our  work,  dear  Father  Cothonay,  and  the 
Bearer  of  the  Name  that  is  above  all  names  must  guide  our  foot- 
steps. 

Langson  was  like  a  breath  of  Hawthorne,  New  York,  the 

268 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Bethlehem  of  Maryknoll,  and  I  would  have  stayed  longer,  but 
this  voyage  is  not  of  the  lingering  kind  and  I  was  afraid  that  I 
might  lose  my  boat,  which  was  at  Haiphong  waiting  for  the 
coolies  to  recover  from  their  New  Year's  celebration.  I  said 
good-bye  to  Father  Cothonay  and  his  House  of  God  Saturday 
morning,  February  16. 

Marching  Time. 

Father  Brebion  accompanied  me.  He  had  not  '"been  to 
town"  for  a  few  years  and  his  thoughtful  Superior  felt  that  it 
would  do  him  good  to  see  Haiphong  and  the  electric  cars  again. 
Father  Brebion  was  glad  to  come,  but  as  usual  I  found  in  him,  as 
in  all  others,  no  keen  desire  to  get  back  to  civilization.  It  is 
marvelous  (or  is  it,  when  we  know  what  God's  grace  can  do?) 
to  note  in  our  missioners  the  completeness  of  their  separation 
from  persons  and  places  that  would  seem  indispensable  to  many, 
and  the  absorption  of  their  interest  by  those  who  look  to  them 
for  guidance. 

At  Haiphong  the  Taksang  was  loading  and  would  not  sail 
until  Tuesday  morning.  It  was  then  Saturday  and  I  made  an 
effort  to  secure  a  berth  or  even  saloon  space  on  a  special  boat 
that  would  leave  the  following  day,  but  the  local  agent  monopo- 
lized the  only  two  available  staterooms  and  evidently  did  not 
desire  company.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  settle  down  for 
three  nights  and  two  days,  which  passed  quietly  enough,  thanks 
to  the  kindness  of  my  companion  and  the  Spanish  Dominicans. 

I  saw  more  of  the  little  altar-boys  those  days,  and  of  the 
congregation  in  the  church,  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  Annamite  boys  with  their  long  wisps  of  hair  over  white 
surplices  can  serve  Mass  better  than  the  average  youth  at  home 
and  that  the  faithful  are  quite  as  devout  as  any  of  our  own 
edifying  congregations.  I  recall  entering  the  church  late  one 
afternoon  when  the  Stations  of  the  Cross  were  in  progress. 
There  were  several  hundred  people  present  and  the  officiating 
priest  was  preceded  by  an  acolyte  who  carried  just  above  his 
head  a  large  Christus  on  a  correspondingly  heavy  cross.  Many 
of  the  faithful  were  following  the  priest  as  the  women  of  Jerusa- 
lem did  our  struggling  Saviour  and  all  seemed  wrapt  in  their 

269 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

devotions.  These  people  often  remain  in  the  church  for  hours 
at  a  time  and  in  positions  far  from  comfortable. 

The  extra  days  in  Haiphong  gave  me  an  opportunity  also  to 
look  into  a  few  of  the  outlying  churches,  to  reach  which  we  had 
to  drive  only  about  half-an-hour,  and  then  walk  along  dykes 
that  led  us  to  a  series  of  villages,  each  with  its  own  church  and 
every  church  quite  solidly  built.  One  of  these  churches,  dis- 
tinctly Annamite  in  style,  was  placed  among  well-to-do  Chris- 
tians, whose  faith  and  generosity  were  evidenced  by  a  rich  gold- 
lacquered  interior  which  their  offerings  had  made  possible. 

The  Christians  were  nearly  all  at  home  but  a  few  had  finished 
thair  New  Year's  holidays  (probably  because  they  were  out  of 
food)  and  were  working.  That  day  I  saw  in  the  city  other 
Christians,  a  small  settlement  of  artisans  whose  handiwork 
in  inlaid  mother-of-pearl  is  very  interesting  and  remarkably 
cheap.  In  Tongking  there  are  several  other  industries,  such  as 
wood-carving,  brass-moulding  and  pottery  work,  to  which 
the  efforts  of  our  Christians  could  be  steadily  directed  with 
good  results  if  there  were  a  certain  outlet.  Some  day  we  should 
have  in  the  United  States  one  or  more  Catholic  Mission  Shops. 

No  time  was  lost  in  getting  away  from  Haiphong  Tuesday 
morning,  February  19.  and  at  six  o'clock  three  of  us,  Father 
Martin  of  West  Tongking,  Father  Ligneul  of  Japan — both 
veteran  missioners  on  their  way  to  Pokfulum  where  the  Paris 
sanatorium  and  house  of  retreats  is  located — a  trunk,  and  myself 
were  rickshawing  down  to  the  river  bank. 

The  Taksang  was  out  in  mid-stream  with  funnel  smoking  and 
as  we  reached  the  nearest  point  to  her  there  was  no  doubt  that 
we  could  find  a  sampan.  We  were  literally  besieged  by  at  least 
a  dozen  men,  women,  boys,  and  girls,  who  represented  several 
boats.  Each  family  aimed  to  secure  one  rickshaw-full  of 
humanity  or  baggage,  and  our  plan  was,  of  course,  to  get  the 
contents  of  all  four  rickshaws  into  one  boat.  A  boy  grabbed  my 
satchel  and  his  portly  mother  took  me  by  the  two  hands  like  an 
old  friend,  but  I  managed  to  release  one  hand  in  time  to  save  the 
bag.  In  the  meantime  my  two  companions  were  being  led  each 
to  a  different  boat,  and  the  trunk  had  already  been  snugly  settled 
on  a  third  sampan.     Fortunately,   Father  Brebion,   who  had 

270 


^ 


•i 


4 


I 


J 


'■J 
"A 

'J. 

o 
'^ 
o 


o 


:^ 

3 
'-> 

-) 
D 

t— I 

< 


< 
■n 


■n 


< 

oo 

Q 
< 

u 
:z; 
w 

04 

o 
o 

h- ( 

w 
< 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

joined  us,  came  to  the  rescue  and  united  all  in  one  sampan, 
much  to  the  disgust  of  those  who  lost  their  early  morning  fares — 
perhaps,  too,  their  bowl  of  rice. 

Through  the  Hainan  Straits. 

There  was  no  delay,  as  the  captain  was  going  home  and  was 
already  long  behind  his  schedule.  My  two  priest-companions 
were  provided  with  a  dark-looking  cabin  amidships,  and  I  was 
allotted  to  an  upper  berth  in  my  former  stateroom  with  an 
Englishman  as  fellow-sufferer. 

The  trip  was  without  incident,  but  at  Hoihow  on  the  island  of 
Hainan  we  settled  down  to  an  inexplicable  wait  of  about  twenty 
hours.  The  excuse,  typically  Chinese,  was  that  the  residents 
of  Hoihow,  who  have  cattle  to  send  away,  prefer  to  bring  their 
cargo  to  the  ship  after  dark,  the  insinuation  being  that  some 
of  their  darlings  (hogs,  hens,  and  oxen)  might  thereby  escape  the 
eyes  of  watchful  ofificials  whose  duty  it  is  to  levy  taxes  on  such 
outgoing  products.  Had  it  been  possible  we  could  have  sent 
word  to  the  priest  in  charge  of  Hainan  and  arranged  to  go  ashore, 
but  telegraphs  and  telephones  were  out  of  the  question  and  the 
only  means  of  communication  was  by  sailing-boats,  which  have 
a  habit  of  standing  still  for  hours  at  a  time  while  the  wind  goes 
off  elsewhere  for  a  lark. 

Towards  evening,  after  a  long  day  of  enforced  rest,  we  re- 
marked a  fleet  of  boats  coming  out  of  the  river  and  towards  our 
steamer.  One  would  almost  imagine  that  he  was  about  to  witness 
a  yacht  race  under  the  direction  of  a  New  York  club,  but  he 
would  have  been  soon  disillusioned.  The  boats  were  large 
unpainted  sampans  with  sails  of  straw  and  each  boat  was  loaded 
with  cattle  and  yelling  Chinese. 

By  the  time  the  fleet  began  to  bump  against  the  sides  of 
our  steamer  we  were  enjoying  a  Victrola  concert  provided  by  the 
second-mate.  The  audience  was  not  large  but  all  were  appreci- 
ative, except  perhaps  one  of  the  custom-house  officers,  whose 
thoughts  were  elsewhere  after  a  day's  relaxation  with  its  some- 
what excusable  libations.  Caruso  was  just  reaching  the  climax 
of  some  tragic  theme  when  this  worthy  exclaimed,  "The  hogs 
are  here!" — and  vanished  into  the  dark. 

271 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Later  I  sauntered  out  to  see  the  moving-pictures.  Hogs 
were  resting  at  full  length  in  bamboo  baskets,  and  out  of  the 
sampans  the  donkey-engine  was  hoisting  four  at  a  time,  allowing 
two  minutes  for  each  couple.  The  oxen  came  up  separately, 
with  an  allowance  of  one  minute  from  an  adjustment  of  the  sling 
about  the  animal  to  the  recovery  on  deck  of  its  standing  position. 
For  the  privileged  steers  stalls  had  been  prepared,  but  the 
hogs  were  thrown  without  order  in  layers  of  two  and  three. 
The  bamboo  is  so  stiff  that  one  hog  does  not  actually  rest  upon 
another,  but  the  actual  conditions  would  hardly  appeal  to  a 
member  of  the  S.P.C.A.,  since  the  animals  are  not  able  to  move 
without  cutting  themselves  on  the  sharp  edge  of  the  bamboo 
and  also  because  they  remain  for  one  and  sometimes  two  days 
without  a  scrap  of  food  or  a  drop  of  water.  So  must  suffer  those 
who  live  as  hogs. 

My  stateroom  was  lined  on  one  side  (outside,  of  course) 
with  a  file  of  hogs  and  guarded  at  the  door  by  an  ox  whose  horns 
I  had  to  dodge  whenever  I  wished  to  get  in  or  out,  but  I  must 
admit,  with  all  due  respect  to  the  millions  of  good  people  in 
China,  that  my  sleep  was  less  disturbed  by  these  animals  than 
it  had  been  on  the  down  voyage  by  a  score  of  natives  who  then 
occupied  the  same  places. 

When  I  arose  the  next  morning  we  were  well  out  on  the  China 
Sea,  pitching  some  but  making  good  headway  towards  Hongkong, 
which  we  reached  shortly  after  noon  the  following  day, 
Friday. 

Meanwhile  my  stateroom  companion,  with  twelve  white 
suits,  a  helmet,  a  straw  hat,  and  scores  of  other  wearables,  had 
been  quite  disgusted  with  our  neighbors.  He  aired  his  views, 
however,  on  the  love  of  animals  and  on  other  traits  that  make 
for  the  perfection  of  our  natural  life,  asserting  that  he  had  more 
sympathy  for  a  suffering  dumb  beast  than  for  a  human  being  who 
could  make  known  his  pain.  He  also  emphasized  his  own  golden 
rule  of  life,  "Do  unto  others — etc.,"  but  when  he  asked  me  if  I 
was  not  of  the  opinion  that  a  man  did  his  full  duty  by  living  up 
to  this  rule,  and  I  reminded  him  that  many  a  good  heathen  or 
unbeliever  might  well  be  in  his  class  and  that  he  had  overlooked 
the  supernatural,   he   seemed   surprised   and   almost   shocked. 

272 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

It  is  hard  indeed  to  keep  God  in  view  when  a  man  fills  his  life 
with  needless  luxuries  and  meaningless  preoccupations. 

The  Eternal  Wrangle. 

At  Hongkong  we  anchored  out  in  the  harbor,  and  were  again 
at  the  mercy  of  the  sampan-sharks.  An  innocent-looking  young 
Chinaman  sought  our  patronage,  and,  oining  his  family,  to 
which  was  added  a  couple  of  his  associates,  we  directed  him  to 
land  us  at  a  point  where  my  two  companions  could  find  rick- 
shaws for  Pokfulum  and  where  I  could  get  a  chair  for  the  Procure. 
All  went  well  until  we  neared  the  shore,  when  payment  for 
the  sampan  was  requested.  As  treasurer  and  fighter  for  the 
group,  I  refused  until  we  should  land.  Three  rickshaws  were  in 
waiting  as  we  neared  the  landing-steps  but  as  soon  as  we  dis- 
embarked they  scampered  off  as  if  told  to  do  so,  and  the  usual 
crowd  gathered  to  watch  the  game.  We  had  insisted  on  meeting 
rickshaws  and  chairs,  but  there  were  none  in  sight  on  this 
lonely  wharf,  and  coolies  coming  forward  insisted  on  taking  our 
things,  but  we  refused  until  a  boatman  should  fetch  the  promised 
means  of  transportation.  In  the  meantime,  as  there  was  a 
continuous  clamor  from  the  sampan  men  for  their  pay,  I  told  my 
companions  to  guard  the  baggage  while  I  would  try  to  find  a 
policeman.  The  word  police  has  a  magic  eff^ect  on  the  sampan 
tribe  and  half  way  across  the  street  I  was  overtaken  by  one  who 
speeded  away  and  returned  with  rickshaws,  in  which  Father 
Ligneul  and  Martin  were  soon  seated  and  on  their  way  to 
Pokfulum.  I  then  offered  the  boatman  a  reasonable  fare  and  the 
war  recommenced.  But  as  I  could  not  now  leave  my  belongings 
to  search  for  a  policeman  I  was  at  the  mercy  of  the  boat- 
men, who  blocked  my  rickshaw,  standing  boldly  with  folded 
arms.  I  sat  back  and  glared  at  them  until  they  suggested  a 
compromise,  and  the  game  was  over.  This  is  China — but  in 
America  I  might  have  been  treated  worse. 

Eastern  Tragedies. 

At  Hoihow  we  had  received  news  of  an  earthquake  in  Swatow, 
with  great  loss  of  property  and  life;  also  that  Haiphong  which 
we  had  just  left  had  been  affected,  and  that  Hongkong  had 

273 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

suffered  considerably.  The  news  was  soon  confirmed  and  I 
found  the  people  of  Hongkong  actually  repairing  damage  and 
moving  from  condemned  buildings.  I  learned  also  that  a  brisk 
trade  was  being  carried  on  by  some  enterprising  barbers  of  the 
city,  who  were  selling  to  unsuspecting  Chinamen  some  of  the 
"hair  which  had  been  shaken  from  the  back  of  the  dragon  when 
he  trembled  under  the  earth  so  violently  as  to  cause  its  shaking." 

This  calamity,  occurring  during  the  Chinese  New  Year,  quite 
upset  the  pagans  of  Hongkong,  who  look  forward  to  a  succession 
of  troubles  during  the  next  twelve  months. 

I  found  Father  Fraser  in  Hongkong.  He  had  come  to  tell  me 
that  all  arrangements  had  been  made  to  take  the  regular  boat  to 
our  future  mission  field,  Yeungkong,  and  that  this  boat — a 
junk  towed  by  a  small  steamer — would  leave  Canton  the  follow- 
ing Thursday,  giving  us  a  chance  to  spend  at  least  two  days  at 
Yeungkong  and  enabling  us  to  return  in  good  time  for  my 
steamer  to  America.  Meanwhile  the  catechists  were  getting 
together  their  household  effects  and  my  priest  companions  had 
laid  in  a  stock  of  needfuls.  This  was  all  good  news  and  we  settled 
down  for  a  few  days  in  and  about  Hongkong. 

Fearing  that  I  could  not,  as  planned,  find  another  opportunity 
to  go  to  Nazareth,  I  left  the  Procure  Saturday  afternoon  for  that 
peaceful  spot,  which  we  reached  in  time  for  a  walk  with  the 
director.  Father  Monnier,  in  whose  heart  there  is  a  warm  place 
for  Maryknoll  and  who  looks  forward  with  joy  to  the  possibilities 
of  our  united  efforts.  The  Christian  Brothers  of  Hongkong  have 
secured  quite  near  to  Nazareth  a  small  house  which  gives  them 
opportunity  for  an  occasional  rest  or  for  convalescence  and  we 
lunched  with  them  on  Sunday,  enjoying  from  their  refectory 
the  perfect  ocean  view  which  the  Pokfulum  side  of  Hongkong 
affords.  Father  Robert  had  come  with  Father  Ouillon  to  join 
us  and  we  returned  together  to  the  Procure. 

I  had  tried  to  do  some  business  on  Saturday  afternoon  in 
Hongkong  but  the  races  so  absorbed  the  residents  of  the  island 
that  this  was  quite  impossible,  and  as  similar  conditions  would 
exist  on  Monday  afternoon  we  used  the  morning  to  arrange 
several  details,  including  police  permits  to  leave  the  city,  per- 
mits to  land  in  Japan,  and  a  vise  from  the  American  Consul 

274 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

to  get  back  to  what  my  Irish  friend  in  Shanghai  calls  "God's 
country."  The  two  priests  of  the  Procure  were  late  for  dinner, 
and  when  they  arrived,  breathless  and  heated,  they  told  of  an 
awful  catastrophe  at  the  race  course — the  weakening  of  a  bamboo 
grandstand,  with  the  precipitation  of  hundreds  of  persons  and 
an  immediate  conflagration,  in  which  nearly  one  thousand 
spectators,  mostly  Chinese,  lost  their  lives.  The  priests  on 
hearing  the  news  had  rushed  to  the  scene  but  found  only  the 
charred  bodies  of  the  dead.  That  night,  as  he  watched  the  pre- 
cious hairs  from  the  body  of  the  dragon,  many  a  Chinaman  was 
strengthened  in  his  superstition. 

Arrangements  and  Disarrangements. 

Other  news  had  come  during  the  day,  announcing  a  second 
tearing-up  of  rails  between  Hongkong  and  Canton  and  the  re- 
taking by  General  Lung  of  Yeungkong,  our  own  objective. 
I  began  to  wonder  if  we  could  get  to  Yeungkong  at  all  as  events 
were  shaping  themselves,  but  we  had  no  final  news  to  the 
contrary  and  on  Tuesday  night  we  left  by  the  English  steamer, 
a  very  well-appointed  boat,  for  Canton,  expecting  to  arrive 
at  six  o'clock  the  next  morning.  It  seemed  to  be  a  perfect  starlit 
night  as  we  moved  away  at  ten  o'clock  from  the  wharf  in  Hong- 
kong, but  about  three  hours  later  the  fog-whistle  was  blowing 
and  after  a  rattle  of  the  anchor-chain  the  vibration  of  the 
steamer  ceased.  We  were  "tied  to  a  post"  for  the  night  and  until 
about  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  arriving  finally  at  Canton  In 
the  early  afternoon. 

On  this  passage  we  met  a  Catholic  physician  from  Seattle 
with  his  wife  and  son,  the  first  American  tourists  whom  I  have 
seen  in  the  Far  East  during  these  war  times.  I  have  of  course 
met  many  Americans,  but  all  are  either  resident  here  or  they 
are  in  the  Orient  for  some  passing  business. 

Before  leaving  Hongkong  we  had  received  a  message  that  the 
regular  boat  on  which  we  were  to  sail  for  Yeungkong  had  already 
left,  but  upon  arrival  we  learned  that,  fearing  its  requisition  by 
some  one  of  the  combatant  armies,  its  directors  were  holding 
it  at  a  place  called  Kongmoon.  Gradually  it  was  made  evident 
to  us  that  there  was  no  hope  of  getting  to  Yeungkong  by  the 

275 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

usual  route,  that  overland  would  take  too  long  and  that  there 
was  only  one  means  left — to  hire  a  small  steamer,  which  would 
in  the  space  of  a  short  week  get  us  to  Yeungkong  and  back, 
allowing  us  also  to  visit  Sancian  Island,  where  St.  Francis 
Xavier  had  died  in  sight  of  the  land  which  he  so  much  longed  to 
evangelize. 

Inquiries  had  already  been  made  and  the  price  of  coal  seemed 
prohibitive,  but  when  we  reckoned  the  cost  of  otherwise  trans- 
porting catechists,  furniture,  and  ourselves  we  decided  to  make 
the  hazard,  and  with  a  price  almost  agreed  upon  began  prepara- 
tions. But  in  China  this  is  only  one  step  in  an  uncertain  under- 
taking. 

Before  sailing  we  went  out  on  the  river  to  look  at  the  boat 
in  question  and  after  a  long  search  we  found  it — a  battered  and 
bruised  tug,  unwashed  and  uncleanable.  Do  not  think  for  a 
moment  that  such  conditions  should  interfere  with  plans  in 
this  country.  If  that  were  so  no  one  would  ever  get  far  into 
China.  The  trouble  we  found  was  more  serious.  It  was  a 
question  of  pilots  (six  of  whom,  we  were  assured,  would  be 
needed),  also  of  dollars  and  cents  in  addition  to  the  fixed  price, 
and  finally  of  an  uncertainty  in  passing  the  line  where  battles 
were  raging  (!). 

I  told  the  captain  to  call  on  us  in  the  city  after  lunch  for  a 
final  decision,  and  we  went  directly  to  the  American  Consul, 
from  whom  I  had  already  received  the  Stars  and  Stripes  together 
with  a  Chinese  passport  for  the  interior.  The  Consul  felt  that 
we  should  be  allowed  through  the  lines  and  as  he  had  been  trying 
to  get  some  Chinese  Red  Cross  money  down  to  Yeungkong  I 
took  it  from  him  (without  force)  but  with  a  slender  hope  that  we 
might  yet  reach  our  destination. 

The  captain  came  after  lunch,  and  we  brought  to  our  council 
the  keen  practical  judgment  of  Father  Thomas  who,  by  good 
chance,  had  come  from  his  Mission  on  Sancian  Island  to  Canton 
and  would  gladly  go  back  with  us  even  to  Yeungkong.  The 
captain's  plot  had  thickened  in  the  meantime,  and  as  he  would 
give  us  no  definite  price  nor  a  definite  assurance  that  he  could 
find  pilots  we  were  finally  obliged  to  give  up  the  Yeungkong 
trip  and  to  substitute  for  it  a  visit  to  Sancian,  which  Bishop  de 

276 


ti  ~ — 

"3  5 


I!  -5, 


t5 


•«\ 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Gu^briant  was  especially  anxious  for  many  reasons  to  have  us  see. 
We  were  now  facing  another  problem,  that  of  reaching  Sancian 
Island  and — which  was  more  important — getting  back  at  a 
seasonable  date.  Father  Thomas  arranged  that  we  should  leave 
Canton  before  daylight  on  Sunday. 


277 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHERE   ST.    FRANCIS   XAVIER   DIED 

March  3,  1918. 

UST  when  a  Chinese  junk  is  going  to  leave  its 
moorings  nobody  seems  to  know.  Four  o'clock 
Sunday  morning  was  mentioned  as  our  time  of 
departure  from  Canton  for  Sancian,  then  three- 
thirty,  then  two-thirty.  Finally  it  was  decided 
that  we  should  rise  at  one-thirty,  say  our  Masses, 
and  get  to  the  boat,  on  which  doubtless  most  of 
the  passengers  would  be  waiting  from  Saturday  night.  This 
we  did,  and  soon  after  two  a.  m.  we  were  hurrying  over  the 
rough  pavements  in  the  silent  alleys  of  old  Canton,  meeting 
only  the  sentries,  until  we  reached  the  Bund,  where  rickshaws 
and  chairs  were  passing  to  and  fro  by  the  scores. 

We  pushed  along  after  Father  Thomas,  past  a  multitude  of 
barks  in  which  thousands  were  asleep,  until  at  last  we  reached 
the  Kongmoon  junk,  after  crossing  several  smaller  boats  in 
order  to  get  to  it.  The  steerage  was,  as  usual,  crowded  to  the 
last  square  foot,  and  the  first-cabin  passengers,  identical  with 
those  of  the  second  and  third,  were  stretched  at  full  length 
asleep,  or  in  sitting  postures  munching  watermelon  seeds  and 
drinking  tea. 

Father  Thomas'  boy  and  a  Beau  Brummel  Chinese  who  had 
been  recommended  to  us  as  a  "professor"  had  already  arrived 
and  secured  for  us  the  only  two  cabins  in  the  ark.  They  were 
not  altogether  inviting  but  in  those  surroundings  they  were  the 
last  word  in  luxury  and  would  have  excited  the  envy  of  any  other 
foreigner  had  there  been  one  on  board.  We  spread  blankets 
on  the  soiled  mattresses  and  tried  with  poor  success  to  continue 
our  interrupted  sleep  until  about  seven  o'clock,  when  the  boy 
appeared  with  some  slices  of  raw  ham,  some  good  bread,  butter 
(canned  in  Australia),  and  condensed  milk,  a  spread  fit  for  a 
deposed  king.  Father  Fraser,  who  in  fifteen  years  had  acquired 
a  habit  of  training  servants,  consigned  the  ham  to  the  flames  and 
it  soon  reappeared  with  an  appealing  expression  on  its  fat  face 
that  won  our  sympathy  and  restored  our  appetites. 

278 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

As  there  was  no  promenade  deck  we  remained  in  the  coops, 
catching  occasional  glimpses  of  the  passing  scenery.  Shortly 
before  reaching  Pakhai,  as  we  were  going  through  some  rapids, 
we  heard  an  explosion  of  firecrackers  and  saw  bits  of  paper 
falling  from  the  stern  of  the  vessel  into  the  water.  This,  Father 
Thomas  explained,  was  a  superstitious  ceremony  observed  as  a 
rule  by  the  Chinese  pilots,  who  thus  seek  to  make  friends  with 
the  evil  spirits  lurking  in  these  treacherous  currents. 

Pakhai  is  a  coming  centre,  a  convenient  point  of  departure 
for  Hongkong,  the  West  River,  and  many  other  more  or  less 
important  ports,  including  (among  the  less)  Yeungkong.  It  is 
also  the  terminus  of  the  great  railway  line  constructed,  owned 
and  controlled  by  Chinese  enterprise.  At  present  it  seems  to  have 
only  two  streets,  one  at  right  angles  to  the  other  and  both  lined 
with  ambitious  shopkeepers  or  restaurant-sharks.  There  are 
also  a  few  blocks  of  houses,  but  by  far  the  most  prominent  build- 
ings are  a  group  of  six  or  eight  substantial  structures  occupied 
by — Protestant  missionaries /ram  America. 

As  we  had  two  hours  to  wait  and  the  circuit  of  the  town 
had  been  finished  in  fifteen  minutes,  we  decided  to  visit  our 
fellow-Americans.  The  minister  had  gone  out  of  town  with  his 
family  to  spend  the  day  among  friends  but  we  were  received 
kindly  and  made  a  short  inspection  of  the  boys'  school,  after 
which  we  were  served  with  tea  and  cake  by  a  small  group  of 
deaconesses  from  whom  we  learned  that  this  Mission  is  Presby- 
terian and  that  many  of  its  personnel  are  from  Toronto,  Canada. 
We  also  learned  that  the  same  missionary  Society  supplies 
workers  to  Yeungkong,  our  own  future  mission-field. 

The  Sunning  Railway. 

Our  train  left  in  good  time  and  the  engine  was  a  genuine 
American  snorter,  that  could  make  enough  noise  to  be  heard 
far  into  Westchester  county  from  the  tracks  of  the  New  York 
Central  under  the  cliffs  that  skirt  the  Hudson.  The  cars  were 
made  in  Wilmington,  Delaware,  and  the  seats  were  marked 
with  the  name  of  a  Philadelphia  firm,  because  this  is  the  road 
into  which  has  been  sunk  American  money  earned  in  many  a 
Chinese  laundry  throughout  the  States. 

279 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

But  oh!  how  beauty  fades!  It  is  quite  possible  that  the 
cars  of  the  "Sunning  Railway  Company"  have  been  washed  since 
they  were  put  into  operation  some  years  ago,  but  no  one  would 
ever  suspect  it,  and  were  I  from  Wilmington  or  Philadelphia 
I  should  have  felt  as  if  my  good  name  had  been  sullied.  Dirt 
was  no  new  experience,  however,  in  Far  East  interior  traveling 
and  we  soon  turned  our  eyes  outward  to  passing  scenes. 

We  were  indeed  in  the  land  of  the  Americanized  Chinaman 
and  every  few  moments  we  caught  glimpses  of  villages  recently 
constructed  in  gray  brick  and  tile.  The  houses  were,  as  a  rule, 
of  one  story,  huddled  closely  in  alleys  as  narrow  as  can  be  found 
in  any  town  laid  out  by  stay-at-home  Chinese,  and  the  Temple 
of  Ancestors  had  its  usual  prominent  place  in  the  village  group. 
Occasionally,  however,  there  were  more  pretentious  houses  of 
two  stories,  with  breathing  spaces  on  several  sides,  and,  not  to 
reflect  unkindly  on  the  returned  "Americans,"  it  must  be  realized 
that  their  hard-earned  money  is  a  strong  temptation  to  the 
bandits  who  literally  infest  this  region  and  against  whose  attacks 
every  village  and  town  aims  to  protect  itself  by  close  union  of 
dwellings  massed  behind  an  .encircling  defense. 

At  the  bank  of  a  broad  river  we  came  to  a  stop  and  without 
alighting  were  ferried  by  cable  across  its  rapidly  moving  waters, 
a  feat  engineered,  I  was  told,  by  the  Chinese  and  admired  by  all 
travelers  to  whom  the  idea  is  new. 

Kong-yet  the  Worst-yet. 

Our  destination  for  the  night  was  a  place  called  Kong-yet, 
which  I  hope  never  to  see  again,  at  least  under  circumstances 
similar  to  those  we  experienced.  Kong-yet  is  also  an  Ameri- 
canized (?)  town,  with  unusually  wide  alleys  that  might  almost 
be  called  streets.  It  boasts  of  a  hotel,  to  which  we  looked  for- 
ward as  to  a  place  of  rest  and  refreshment,  because  there  are  no 
Catholics  in  this  town  and  no  priest  within  miles  of  it.  Priests, 
European  or  Chinese,  are  disappointingly  few  in  the  populous 
districts  through  which  we  had  passed,  although  the  activities 
of  American  Protestants  are  quite  in  evidence. 

When  we  entered  the  village  of  Kong-yet  late  in  the  afternoon 
it  was  full  of  soldiers  who  were  on  one  of  two  errands,  bound 

280 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

either  for  Yeungkong  to  battle  against  General  Lung,  the 
leader  of  the  Northern  troops,  or  detailed  to  round  up  an  army 
of  bandits  that  lay  hidden  in  surrounding  mountains  after 
having  pounced  on  the  village  of  Kwonghoi  and  carried  into 
captivity  three  hundred  and  fifty  persons,  including  a  Chinese 
seminarian  in  deacon's  orders  from  Canton. 

Father  Thomas  had  planned  that  we  should  stay  at  Kong-yet 
so  as  to  avoid  the  danger  of  traveling  by  night  either  on  sea  or 
land  while  we  were  in  the  district,  and  he  brought  us  to  the  best 
hotel — the  only  place  of  shelter  that  he  could  think  of.  We 
entered,  passing  between  a  counter  full  of  liquors  and  a  butcher 
shop  to  a  "grand  stairway"  which  was  so  greasy  that  I  nearly 
slipped.  On  the  second  floor  we  found  ourselves  at  the  heart 
of  the  establishment,  the  kitchen,  where  a  force  of  "boys" 
was  occupied  soaking  vegetables  and  making  other  preparations, 
while  others  were  taking  a  half-hour  off  for  chopstick  exercise. 
The  second  and  last  flight  of  stairs  brought  us  into  a  large  hall 
which,  by  means  of  low  wooden  partitions  that  did  not  reach 
to  the  ceiling,  provided  the  full  hotel  accommodation:  six  or 
eight  bedrooms,  two  private  dining  rooms,  a  pantry,  and  the 
clerk's  desk.  Everybody  in  sight  smiled  as  we  appeared  on 
the  scene,  and  when  our  intention  to  remain  was  understood 
all  got  busy — after  their  fashion. 

To  Father  Fraser  and  myself  one  room  with  two  beds  was 
assigned.  The  floor  of  that  room  I  am  willing  to  avow  had 
never  been  washed  since  it  was  laid.  The  walls  were  indescrib- 
able, the  mosquito  nettings  were  of  such  a  color  that  we  decided 
not  to  use  them,  concluding  that  no  insects  would  try  to  get 
near  us.  On  a  marble-covered  table  were  some  crumbs  which 
Boy  No.  1  swept  with  a  dishrag  on  to  the  floor,  after  which  we 
three  priests  sat  down  to  a  meal  prepared  by  Father  Thomas' 
"boy."  Then,  at  a  very  early  hour  of  the  evening,  with  nothing 
to  do  and  a  five  o'clock  rising  before  us,  we  decided  to  turn  in — 
to  our  own  blankets,  of  course. 

We  did  so,  but  there  was  no  sleep  that  night.  A  party  of 
shabbily-dressed  army  officers  had  hired  one  of  the  private 
dining  rooms,  also  another  room  separated  from  ours  by  a  thin 
board;  a  second  group,  evidently  larger  than  the  first,  sat  down 

281 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

for  a  domino  gamble;  then  the  devil  was  let  loose.  My  only 
consolation  was  that  I  did  not  know  the  language,  which  we  had 
reason  to  believe,  and  were  later  assured,  was  far  from  choice. 
Poor  Father  Thomas,  who  is  a  past  master  in  Chinese,  was  in  a 
worse  position  than  we,  being  closeted  between  the  officers' 
quarters  and  an  opium  fiend. 

The  wild  voices,  occasionally  rising  to  a  shriek,  continued 
until  after  four  o'clock,  when  the  soldiers  fell  asleep  over  their 
dominoes.  It  was  then  time  for  us  to  get  up,  breakfast,  and 
continue  our  journey,  and  I  fear  that  I  must  have  made  some 
unnecessary  noise  as  I  thought  of  the  slumbering  miscreants, 
but  oh!  it  was  good  to  get  out  into  God's  pure  air  and  to  say, 
"Never  again  for  me!" 

But  this  last  reflection  recalled  the  possibility  of  the  same 
conditions  for  Father  Thomas  on  some  future  journey — and 
of  similar  experiences  for  MaryknoU  missioners.  A  mission  that 
can  afford  it  should  have  a  catechist  established  in  such 
towns  and  a  room  in  the  catechist's  house  could  be  kept  for 
passing  missioners.  This  would  call  for  at  least  two  hundred 
dollars  a  year — and  besides  accomplishing  something  towards  the 
spread  of  faith  it  would  enable  a  priest  to  respect  the  dignity  of 
his  sublime  calling  and  to  offer  the  Holy  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass. 
The  Mission  of  Canton  is  too  poor  for  this. 

Relief. 

We  took  the  train  in  silence  that  morning,  as  if  we  had  passed 
through  a  miserable  nightmare,  and  we  settled  down  to  our 
breviaries,  each  of  us  evidently  anxious  to  forget  the  experience 
as  soon  as  possible.  A  village  called  Doison  was  now  our  objec- 
tive and  there  we  expected  to  find  a  small  steam  launch  to  carry 
us,  after  lunch,  over  to  Sancian  Island.  We  reached  this  port 
towards  noon  and  went  directly  to  another  "hotel,"  not  so  pre- 
tentious as  that  at  Kong-yet  but  quite  as  dirty.  As  we  landed 
on  the  second  floor  a  small  boy  yelled  as  if  a  fire  had  just  broken 
out,  but  Father  Thomas  informed  us  that  he  was  only  calling  an 
order  of  rice  to  the  kitchen  below  or  possibly  notifying  the  pro- 
prietor that  a  "full-up"  Chinaman  was  leaving  the  place  and 
would  try  to  get  by  without  paying. 

282 


THE  DINING-ROUAi  Ui    .a  CHlAEbE  COUNTRY  INN 


WHERE  SAMPANS  AND  JUNKS  MEET  THE  IMODERN   STEAM  LAUNCH 

ON   CHINESE   WATER-WAYS 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Father  Thomas'  "boy"  saved  our  lives  again  on  this  occasion, 
providing  even  the  dishes  for  our  lunch,  to  which  his  "master" 
sat  down  late  and  with  a  poor  appetite.  The  usual  upset  of 
plans  had  occurred.  The  boat  that  Father  Thomas  had  engaged 
for  us  could  not  go.  It's  owner,  fearing  that  it  would  be  requisi- 
tioned and  never  paid  for,  had  ordered  its  engine  to  be  dismantled. 
When  Father  Thomas  received  this  news  he  put  on  his  fiercest 
expression  and  paced  through  the  town  like  a  war-horse,  re- 
turning with  the  news  that  he  had  engaged  the  police-boat, 
which  would  wait  over  a  day  for  us  at  Sancian  and  bring  us 
back  to  Doison.  This  would  make  our  date  of  return  more 
certain  than  if  we  depended,  as  had  been  planned,  on  a  sailing 
bark  to  cross  that  section  of  the  China  Sea. 

This  was  comforting  for  Father  Fraser  and  myself,  but  Father 
Thomas,  in  whose  poorly-covered  mission  district  we  had  been 
for  almost  twenty-four  hours,  had,  while  in  his  quest  for  a  boat, 
learned  that  more  of  his  parishioners  had  been  kidnapped  and 
that  one,  a  well-to-do  Chinese,  was  being  held,  with  threat  of 
early  death,  for  a  ransom  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars,  a  seemingly 
impossible  proposition.  Father  Thomas  ate  little  that  noon 
and  it  was  not  until  our  police-boat  had  puffed  out  into  the 
main  river  that  he  recovered  his  spirits.  Even  then  he  was  obliged 
to  pass  and  to  point  out  to  us  the  mountains  in  which  the  captives 
of  Kwonghoi,  including  the  deacon-seminarist,  were  being  de- 
tained. It  was  a  rocky  promontory,  evidently  impregnable,  at 
least  to  the  present  Chinese  armament. 

We  were  fagged  after  the  sleepless  night  and  when  we  came 
to  the  ocean  some  sleeping  soldiers  were  called  up  from  the 
single  cabin  and  we  turned  into  their  places  for  a  nap.  I  have 
a  recollection  of  being  considerably  tossed,  but  of  nothing  else 
until  I  heard  Father  Thomas'  voice  announcing  that  we  were  in 
sight  of  Sancian. 

Sancian  Island. 

Sancian — where  St.  Francis  Xavier  had  landed — where  for 
weeks  he  had  lived,  waiting  for  the  chance  that  never  came  to 
get  to  the  mainland  already  in  view.  Sancian — where  this 
intrepid  Apostle  of  the  Indies  and  of  Japan  breathed  his  lasf 

283 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

sigh,  resigned  in  the  knowledge  that  he  had  done  his  best  to 
bring  into  China  the  Standard  of  Christ.  A  bold,  bare,  mighty 
rock  stretched  to  the  north,  and  midway  as  the  westerning  sun 
came  forth  from  a  passing  cloud  its  rays  brightened  the  pure 
white  surface  of  a  little  chapel,  whose  spire  pointing  heavenwards 
makes  known  to  some,  at  least,  who  sail  these  seas  that  Francis 
Xavier,  to  whom  earth  meant  only  a  passage  and  to  whom  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  was  all,  was  once  buried  on  this  sacred 
spot.  This  memorial  chapel — for  such  it  is — stands  quite  alone 
on  the  cliff  that  marks  the  entrance  to  a  small  bay.  A  line  of 
houses  was  soon  revealed,  stretching  north  and  south  from  the 
Mission  buildings,  a  rather  imposing  group  at  that  distance. 

We  anchored  about  three  hundred  feet  from  the  shore  and 
sounded  shrill  whistles  to  attract  some  fisherman,  our  only  hope 
of  landing.  Pirates  are  always  to  be  reckoned  with  by  the 
natives  in  Sancian,  although,  under  Father  Thomas,  a  volunteer 
guard-system  has  been  established  and  the  island  for  some  time 
past  has  not  been  visited  by  robbers.  Father  Thomas,  too, 
seldom  returns  to  his  flock  in  anything  but  a  sailboat.  He  was 
not  at  first  recognized  from  the  shore  and  it  looked  as  if  some 
one  might  have  to  swim  to  the  beach.  Finally  a  couple  of  men 
put  in  an  appearance,  and  as  they  rowed  out  to  us  a  group  of  chil- 
dren came  cautiously  down  to  the  water-edge.  When  the  boat 
drew  near  the  rowers  recognized  their  spiritual  father  and  were 
evidently  delighted  as  we  all  clambered  in.  As  our  boat 
scraped  the  sand  the  children  gave  a  chorus  of  welcome  blessings 
to  their  pastor,  following  close  upon  our  heels  as  we  passed  over 
the  damp  sands  to  the  church. 

A  church  it  is,  with  quite  a  broad  facade  and  clerestory,  but 
a  few  moments  were  enough  to  reveal  the  fact  that  the  priest 
who  built  it,  like  most  missioners,  had  an  eye  to  the  future. 
The  actual  church  occupies  only  the  nave,  which  is  marked  on 
either  side  by  partitions.  Between  one  of  these  partitions  and 
the  outside  wall  is  the  priest's  house,  running  up  into  the  clere- 
story, and  beyond  the  second  partition  is  the  school  with  its 
dormitory  above.  Father  Fraser  and  I  were  given  the  "pastor's 
study,"  the  only  possible  guest-room,  which  is  almost  on  a  level 
with  the  choir-gallery  of  the  church,  into  which  we  could  pass 

284 


1.  "A  Utile  chapel  makes  known  to  some,  at  least,  who  sail  these  seas,  thai  Francis 

Xavier  —  was  once  buried  on  this  sacred  spot."     {p.  284.) 

2.  "In  the  direction  of  Yeungkong  —  n-hcre  we  are  planning  to  send  from  America 

valiant  young  soldiers  of  Christ."     (p.  2S6.) 

3.  "  The  children  gave  a  chorus  of  welcome  blessings,  following  close  on  our  heels  as 

we  passed  over  'he  damp  sands."     {p.  2S4.) 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

by  a  short  staircase,  and  beds  were  erected  for  us  without  delay 
so  that  we  might  look  forward  to  a  real  sleep  that  night. 

Sancian  Island  has  about  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  most 
of  whom  are  fishermen.  When  Father  Thomas  first  went  there 
Catholics  were  practically  unknown,  but  today  they  number 
nearly  two  thousand  and  Father  Thomas  is  recognized  by  all 
classes,  as  also  by  the  Government,  as  a  power  in  the  island. 
In  fact  he  acts  as  judge,  since  there  is  no  mandarin  at  Sancian, 
and  his  strong  character,  joined  to  a  marked  disinterestedness, 
has  won  for  him  the  respect  of  all  the  pagans  in  the  island  as  well 
as  that  of  all  Chinese  officials  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact. 
We  had  remarked  on  the  train  his  wide  acquaintance  with  Chinese 
men  and  the  keen  attention  which  they  gave  as  he  talked  to 
them  fluently  in  their  own  tongue,  but  now  as  we  looked  at  the 
living  fruit  of  his  intelligent  zeal  we  were  not  surprised. 

But  Father  Thomas,  like  most  of  us,  has  his  "off  days." 
They  come  usually  after  his  "days  off" — and  if  he  were  not 
morally  obliged  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  take  any  "days  off" 
from  his  beloved  Sancian.  He  has,  however,  to  advise  occasion- 
ally with  his  Bishop  and  must  find  time  for  his  regular  confession 
— and  each  of  these  means  a  difficult  passage  across  the  sea 
with  an  expense  of  forty  to  fifty  Mexican  dollars.  This  worthy 
priest  has  also  poor  health  to  reckon  with ;  but  his  greatest  trial 
comes  from  a  realization  that  in  the  development  of  his  work 
he  has  reached  a  point  beyond  which  he  cannot  go  under  present 
conditions. 

The  Bishop  of  Canton  and  he  have  talked  over  the  situation 
at  Sancian  and  both  agree  that  at  the  earliest  possible  moment 
a  well-equipped  school  under  the  direction  of  some  teaching 
Brothers  should  be  established.  These  are  the  principal  obstacles: 
a  building  must  be  erected  that  will  cost  five  thousand  dollars 
(here  is  a  chance  for  some  one  to  found  a  college  on  the  island 
where  St.  Francis  Xavier  died) ;  four  or  five  teaching  Brothers 
must  be  secured.  When  Father  Thomas  can  realize  these  needs 
his  cup  of  happiness  will  be  filled  and  he  will  think  of 
tearing  down  the  partitions  so  as  to  enlarge  his  church,  into 
which  now  he  cannot  invite  his  entire  congregation  for  any  one 
service. 

285 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

In  the  Footsteps  of  Xavier. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  at  Sancian  Father  Fraser  and  I 
walked  over  the  beach  to  the  Memorial  Chapel,  where,  in  the 
presence  of  the  children  and  two  native  nuns,  we  offered  the 
Holy  Sacrifice,  in  honor  of  St.  Francis  Xavier,  for  the  propagation 
of  the  Catholic  faith  in  China.  After  Mass  we  venerated  relics 
of  the  Holy  Cross  and  of  the  Apostle,  on  whose  tombstone  the 
reliquaries  had  been  placed,  and  before  leaving  that  hallowed 
spot  I  looked  out  across  the  China  Sea  in  the  direction  of  Yeung- 
kong,  where  battles  were  even  then,  perhaps,  in  progress  and 
where  we  are  planning  to  send  from  America  valiant  young 
soldiers  of  Christ  to  fight  Satan. 

As  we  returned  on  the  sands  that  morning  we  picked  up  a 
few  shells — small,  dainty,  curious  things  that  interested  us 
enough  to  suggest  the  idea  of  carrying  them  away  as  souvenirs. 
We  were,  of  course,  observed,  and  one  little  girl  of  about  four 
followed  us  to  the  door  of  the  priest's  house,  having  in  the  mean- 
time loaded  us  down  with  shells  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  of 
her  own  selection.  During  the  day  other  consignments  of  shells 
were  disgorged  from  mysterious  pockets  and  that  evening  a 
small  table  in  the  dining  room  was  quite  covered  with  the 
"treasures."  Some  soldiers  who  dropped  in  on  the  "Governor" 
of  the  island  helped  themselves  to  a  few  and  we  stowed  away 
others  for  exportation  to  America. 

During  the  day  we  visited  two  of  Father  Thomas'  Christian 
settlements,  to  the  north  and  south  of  the  central  Mission 
respectively.  At  one  of  these  settlements  there  is  a  resident 
Chinese  priest  who,  while  we  were  on  the  island,  lunched  and 
dined  with  us,  providing  his  cook  as  waiter  for  the  American 
guests.  This  young  priest  was  educated  by  a  benefactress  in 
New  York  and  he  was  evidently  grateful  for  her  kindness. 
His  house  has  two  rooms:  one,  like  Father  Thomas'  dining 
room,  has  a  variety  of  uses;  the  other,  just  above,  provides  his 
bedchamber. 

At  this  settlement  we  found  a  school  in  progress,  but  I 
confess  to  something  of  a  shock  when  I  realized  that  it  was  in 
a  pagan  ancestor-temple.  "How  can  I  help  it?"  answered 
Father  Thomas  to  our  inquiry.      "This  place  is  used  only  once 

286 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


a  year  by  pagans,  who  come  from  a  distance  to  adore  the  spirits 
of  their  forefathers,  and  in  the  meantime  it  serves  our  purpose. 
We  have  nothing  else,  and  are  not  likely  to  have  it  until  better 
times  come." 

I  walked  over  to  the  shelvings  of  tablets,  each  with  its  in- 
scription and  each  so  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  relatives  interested 
that  it  would  have  been  a  serious  matter  to  remove  it,  but  I 
could  not  help  asking  myself  what  effect  the  continual  presence 
of  this  superstition  had  on  the  Catholic  children  studying  and 
reciting  their  lessons  daily  in  that  atmosphere.  And  then  on 
reflection  I  was  glad  to  feel  that  the  Sign  of  the  Cross,  with 
prayers  to  the  One  True  God  and  ejaculations  in  honor  of  our 
Immaculate  Mother  Mary,  could  and  doubtless  would  restrain 
the  power  of  Satan  over  these  children  of  light,  and  perhaps 
bring  the  grace  of  conversion  to  some  whose  ancestors  had  been 
enrolled  here. 

No  one  who  visits  with  its  pastor  a  Christian  settlement  in 
China  can  fail  to  be  impressed  by  its  atmosphere.  The  moment 
a  Christian  catches  sight  of  his  priest  his  eyes  brighten  with 
evident  pleasure  and  his  salutation  is  delightfully  familiar  and 
respectful.  Young  people  race  away  to  warn  their  elders  and  in 
a  few  moments  faces  appear  at  the  doorways  or  in  the  alleys, 
all  anxious  to  receive  a  word  of  recognition  or  at  least  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  their  spiritual  father  and  his  guests.  If  a  stop  is 
made  or  any  building  entered,  the  windows  and  doorways  are 
closed  in  almost  immediately  by  groups  of  inquisitive  children — 
and  grown-ups.  This  was  the  case  at  Sancian  as  elsewhere, 
but  Father  Thomas  attempted  occasionally  to  shoo  the  crowds, 
and  he  succeeded  about  as  well  as  the  housewife  does  when  she 
shakes  a  rag  at  the  flies  and  leaves  the  door  ajar. 

Running  the  Gauntlet. 

We  went  to  bed  early  for  a  second  and  last  night's  sleep  at 
Sancian,  because  we  were  due  to  rise  before  three  o'clock.  The 
hour  was  to  have  been  a  little  later  but  word  had  come  from  the 
police-boat  that  if  we  wished  to  make  the  tide  at  Doison  we 
must  start  very  early.  Our  Masses  were  over  by  three-thirty 
and  they  had  been  served  by  four  altar-boys  who  seemed  as 

287 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN'THE    ORIENT 

bright  as  if  they  were  at  a  noonday  lunch.  These  youngsters 
accompanied  us  down  to  the  beach  with  Father  Thomas  and 
helped  us  into  the  fishing  boat,  which  brought  us  in  a  few  mo- 
ments to  the  anchored  launch.  Everybody  seemed  to  be  asleep 
on  board,  but  dressing  is  not  a  long  operation  with  Chinese 
soldiers  and  after  a  brief  delay  we  puffed  out  under  the  cliffs 
and  in  full  moonlight  headed  westward  for  the  China  mainland. 

The  air  was  cool,  almost  cold,  but  the  cabin  was  still  occupied 
by  soldiers  and  we  had  to  find  the  best  shelter  available,  on  the 
hatch  behind  the  steel  shield  that  was  supposed  to  be  at  least 
bullet-proof.  I  recalled  that  Father  Thomas,  intrepid  apostle 
that  he  is,  did  not  fancy  the  idea  of  night  travel  on  these  waters, 
where  pirates  like  to  stay  out  in  the  dark,  but  the  moon  was  re- 
assuring that  morning.  All  went  well  until  we  were  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  across,  when  at  a  low  signal  the  sleeping 
soldiers  jumped  from  their  berths,  hurriedly  snatched  rifles, 
stepped  silently  by  us,  and  stationing  themselves  behind  the 
steel  guards  fixed  their  eyes  on  some  approaching  object. 
J  Father  Fraser  and  I  were  at  that  moment  on  a  rather  interest- 
ing subject  and  I  had  the  lead.  At  his  suggestion,  we  stepped 
down  into  the  cabin  left  vacant  by  the  soldiers,  and  I  found 
myself  wondering  whether  we  were  safer  there  with  a  shield  of 
wood  than  on  deck  with  a  steel  protection.  It  was  an  unusual 
sensation,  this  waiting  for  a  rain  of  bullets,  and  although  at 
Father  Fraser's  request  I  continued  the  story  I  confess  to  a  loss 
of  interest  caused  by  the  preoccupation  of  the  moment.  Nothing 
happened,  however,  and  when  one  of  the  soldiers  returned  with 
an  unconcerned  expression  we  resumed  our  places  on  deck. 
We  were  now  nearing  Doison  and  I  was  glad  to  feel  that  we 
should  there  find — even  with  a  wait  until  eleven  o'clock — a 
train  that  would  carry  us  past  that  awful  hotel,  up  to  Pakhai 
in  time  for  the  Canton  junk. 

We  were  getting  towards  the  mouth  of  the  river  that  would 
lead  us  into  Doison,  when  suddenly  the  boat  stopped.  It  was 
not  for  pirates  this  time,  but  the  news,  calmly  delivered  to  us, 
was  almost  as  bad.  We  had  run  aground  and  could  not  possibly 
make  Doison  until  the  next  full  tide,  which  would  come  that 
afternoon — too  late,  of  course,  for  our  train.     Long,  idle  hours 

288 


In  the  house  of  a  parishioner 


The  shelvings  of  tablets 


"  \Vc  joiind  a  school  in  progress,  —  in  a  pagan  ancesiur-lcniph."     [p.  2S6.) 
AT   SANCIAN   ISLAND   WITH    FATHER   THOMAS 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

on  this  crowded  gunboat,  a  noisy  tinder-box  for  our  rest  that 
night,  and  Heaven  knows  what  else  the  day  would  bring  to  us — 
these  were  not  comforting  reflections,  but  I  had  begun  to  realize 
that  in  China  the  unexpected  happens  frequently  and  that  St. 
Teresa's  maxim  about  patience  is  well  worth  remembering — at 
least  once  an  hour. 

The  soldiers  knew  that  we  were  disappointed  and  in  their 
own  way  expressed  their  sympathy.  Then  as  their  brains  began 
to  work  the  captain  suggested  that  we  might  back  off  the  sands, 
make  for  Kwonghoi,  the  village  that  had  been  raided  by  bandits, 
and  take  a  chair  or  even  walk  to  Doison,  a  distance  of  about 
nine  miles.  We  assented  at  once,  although  we  knew  that  the 
chance  to  reach  Doison  in  time  for  that  train  was  a  slim  one. 
For  several  minutes  I  expected  a  boiler  explosion  and  the  churned 
waters  looked  like  the  mud-baths  of  Marienbad,  but  little  by 
little  we  moved  backward,  and,  floating  clear,  turned  the  cannon's 
mouth  and  incidentally  the  bow  of  the  boat  towards  Kwonghoi. 

It  remained  "towards"  that  morning,  for  just  as  we  reached 
the  harbor  of  that  unhappy  seaport  we  scraped  the  bottom 
again.  The  landing-place  was  a  good  mile  away  and  every 
minute's  delay  now  seemed  serious,  because  we  were  in  a  racing 
mood  with  a  train  as  the  goal.  The  boat-whistle  gave  its  shriek 
to  call  a  sampan  from  the  village,  but  fortunately  for  us  an  old 
woman  with  her  daughter  and  grandchild  had  made  an  early 
trip  to  an  outlying  junk  and  answered  the  signal  in  a  few  mo- 
ments. Grandmother  sculled  at  the  stern,  mother,  standing 
beyond  our  shelter,  rowed  with  a  vigorous  stroke,  while  the 
representative  of  the  third  generation  slept  peacefully  on 
mother's  back,  rocked  automatically  by  the  stroke  of  her  oar. 

Over  the  Dykes. 

A  half-dozen  coolies  were  waiting  for  us,  and  their  charges 
were  sky-high  because  they  knew  that  we  must  be  after  that 
train  and  that  we  could  not  dispense  with  their  services.  There 
was  no  time  to  bargain  and  in  five  minutes,  with  two  coolies 
trotting  ahead  and  Father  Fraser  setting  a  pace  for  the  "Professor" 
and  myself,  we  were  swinging  along  in  Indian  file  through  Kwong- 
hoi and  the  connecting  villages,  out  onto  the  dykes  of  the  rice- 

289 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

fields.  We  were  really  too  anxious  about  our  train  to  realize 
that  we  were  going  over  the  ground  recently  invaded  by  hun- 
dreds of  bandits,  but  occasionally  as  I  looked  at  some  passing 
group  I  wondered  if  at  that  moment  they  were  not  thinking 
of  dear  ones  captive  in  the  fastnesses  of  that  robber  mountain, 
which  the  Chinese  Government  should  either  clear  or  blow  up. 

The  sun  was  hot  and  there  was  no  shade.  An  umbrella 
rarely  finds  a  place  in  my  travel  outfit  but  I  missed  one  on  this 
trip,  perhaps  because  I  happened  to  recall  that  everybody  in 
the  Far  East  seems  to  be  in  mortal  dread  of  the  sun,  especially 
when  it  strikes  the  back  of  the  neck.  Villages  were  numerous 
and  it  would  have  been  a  blessed  relief  in  more  ways  than  one  to 
have  passed  through  them,  but  each  was  fenced  with  bamboo 
against  the  bandits,  and  while  it  was  always  possible  to  enter, 
the  impression  left  was  that  the  much-abused  inhabitants  would 
rather  have  strangers  keep  outside  the  bamboo;  and  this  we  did, 
holding  to  our  rapid  pace  for  several  miles  until  we  reached 
the  perspiration-bath  stage.  The  train-hour,  eleven  o'clock, 
was  always  with  us,  an  incentive  not  to  linger  but  a  somewhat 
dismal  thought  whenever  we  looked  at  our  watches. 

After  the  third  mile  we  met  two  chair-carriers  and  suggested 
that  they  should  right-about-face,  but  they  had  already  taken 
a  "fare"  that  morning  and  with  a  shake  of  the  head,  telling  us 
that  they  had  not  yet  eaten  their  rice,  they  passed  on.  Before 
we  had  made  half  of  our  journey,  however,  we  found  other 
chair-bearers  who  yielded  to  the  temptation  and  lifting  us  on 
their  shoulders  carried  us  at  an  even  more  rapid  pace  than  we 
had  been  walking.  These  men  knew  the  hour  of  the  train  and 
the  distance  to  be  covered.  They  would  '  'lose  face"  if  they  failed 
to  arrive  on  time,  but  two  ferry  passages  and  a  brief  stop  for  the 
carriers'  "chow"  (they,  too,  had  not  eaten  that  morning),  almost 
took  away  our  hope  and  the  Chinese  hotel  loomed  up  again  on  the 
horizon  as  a  possibility  for  the  night.  At  the  last  ferry  we  might 
have  been  delayed  by  a  transport  of  soldiers  had  we  not  arrived 
just  in  time  to  keep  them  waiting  first,  and  as  we  filed  by  the 
company  we  knew  that  this  was  our  final  dash.  We  waited  every 
moment  for  the  sound  of  the  passing  train,  but  our  fears  were 
not  realized,  and  with  a  genuine  "Thank  God"  we  climbed  on 

290 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

board  the  "Sunning  Express"  which,  with  all  its  dirt,  was  good  to 
look  upon.  In  a  few  moments  we  were  speeding  westward 
towards  Pakhai,  where  as  planned  we  should  connect  with  a 
junk  for  Canton. 

Back  to  Canton. 

The  Far  East  is  certainly  extensive  but  on  the  travel-ways 
one  often  meets  friends  or  acquaintances.  On  this  particular 
run,  for  example,  we  ran  into  three  such  rone  a  minister  whom  I 
had  encountered  on  the  steamer  coming  from  San  Francisco; 
another  a  Chinese  Catholic  who,  ten  days  before,  had  tried 
to  find  a  boat  for  us;  the  third,  the  young  Chinese  doctor  who 
had  called  on  me  at  Hongkong  and  who  had  just  come  down  the 
line  to  place  his  wife  in  the  care  of  an  eye-specialist.  He  had 
with  him  his  three-year-old,  who  was  loaded  for  the  journey 
with  sugar-cane  and  firecrackers.  The  "Doctor"  has  some  shares 
in  the  Sunning  Railway  but  he  seems  to  fear  that  the  tracks 
and  running  stock  will  rust  out  before  he  realizes  anything  from 
them,  and  as  an  "American  citizen  of  Chinese  extraction"  he  is 
quite  ashamed  of  the  present  condition  of  the  equipment. 

Just  before  reaching  Kongmoon  we  passed  several  miles 
of  great  hills  literally  honey-combed  with  graves.  Our  first 
impression  was  that  this  was  a  central  burying  place  for  some 
very  large  district,  but  we  were  afterwards  told  that  it  represented 
only  the  multitudes  of  that  particular  locality.  Overwhelming 
is  the  thought  of  the  millions  upon  millions  who  have  toiled 
through  their  Christ-less  lives  on  the  soil  of  China. 

At  Pakhai,  which  we  reached  before  five,  we  found  a  sampan 
advertising  the  Canton  junk,  and  learning  that  the  departure 
hour  was  seven  o'clock  we  decided  that  it  was  about  time  to 
search  for  food — a  commodity  of  which  we  had  seen  little  for 
more  than  twelve  hours.  We  selected  one  of  three  restaurants, 
and,  quite  pleased  to  find  ourselves  alone,  ordered  "chow  and 
chopsticks"  for  three.  Just  then  Father  Eraser  had  the  happy 
inspiration  to  think  of  some  bread  that  was  tucked  away  in  our 
belongings  on  the  sampan  and  we  dispatched  the  "Professor" 
for  this  link  with  home.  In  the  meantime,  chopsticks,  from 
which  the  paint  had  long  since  been  washed,  and  watermelon 

291 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

seeds  were  set  before  us,  and — perhaps  the  worst  was  yet  to 
come,  but  in  any  event  just  as  that  critical  moment  arrived  the 
"Professor"  returned  and  nonchalantly  announced  that  the 
sampan  with  our  bags  was  about  to  leave  the  dock  for  the  junk 
which  would  be  moving  towards  Canton  in  another  fifteen 
minutes.  The  restaurant  keeper  looked  dazed  as  we  rushed  by 
him,  and  when  he  awoke  to  the  situation  he  probably  felt  a  few 
heart-pangs,  but — this  is  China,  and  we  were  "foreign  devils." 

The  Canton  junk  was  crowded,  but  ours  were  the  only  two 
white  faces.  Every  stateroom  had  been  taken  and  we  were 
offered  for  the  night  two  camp  chairs  with  the  space  occupied 
by  them.  We  accepted,  called  for  some  rice  and  chicken  (which 
after  it  had  been  returned  for  an  extra  roast  was  manageable), 
and  with  a  couple  of  sponge  cakes  went  through  the  dinner 
exercise,  to  the  delight  of  the  stateroom  passengers — all  women 
and  children — who  looked  at  us  through  the  window-bars  until 
the  last  dish  had  disappeared  and  we  left  to  get  a  breath  of 
fresh  air  on  the  upper  deck. 

I  did  not  go  down  again  until  we  arrived  in  Canton  at  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  This  meant  a  stretch  of  nine 
hours,  but  the  saloon  below  was  stifling  and  the  upper  deck, 
while  too  cold  to  encourage  sleep  without  a  blanket,  gave  me  an 
opportunity  to  walk  and  sit  alternately.  Besides  there  were 
occasional  thrills,  as  we  swung  corners  or  ploughed  through  rapids 
following  the  lead  of  the  tug  upon  whose  power,  together  with  a 
stout  rope,  we  were  depending.  There  were  other  thrills  as  we 
neared  midnight  and  passed  the  lurking  places  of  bandits.  At 
such  moments  the  soldier  on  guard  would  stop  chatting  with  the 
rudder  master,  and  station  himself  ready  to  shoot  behind  a 
shield  similar  to  that  which  adorned  the  police-boat  that  had 
dumped  us  into  the  sampan  at  Kwonghoi. 

The  lights  of  Canton  seemed  endless  that  night  and  I  realized 
for  the  first  time  how  large  the  city  really  is.  The  tug  dropped 
our  junk  at  its  temporary  wharf — another  junk — over  which  we 
had  to  clamber  and  then  walk  a  narrow  plank  before  we  were 
on  firm  footing.  It  was  after  three  o'clock  but  the  "Great  White 
Way"with  its  "First-Class Gambling  Houses",  was  again  ablaze. 
We  had  secured  coolies  to  carry  our  baggage,  but,  fearing  that 

292 


"After  the  third  mile  we  met  two  chair-carriers  and  suggested  that  they  should 

right-about-face."     {p.  2go.) 


"At  the  last  ferry  —  as  we  filed  by  the  company  we  knew  that  this  'was 
our  final  dash."     (p.  2go.) 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

they  had  fallen  overboard  in  crossing  that  treacherous  plank, 
Father  Fraser  went  back.  While  waiting  for  him  I  discovered 
in  a  dark  corner  something  that  looked  like  a  bag  of  potatoes. 
Approaching  it,  however,  I  noticed  a  movement  and  concluded 
that  it  was  a  large  turtle  left  there  for  the  moment.  My  com- 
panion, better  acquainted  than  I  was  with  Chinese  men  and 
animals,  identified  it  as  a  beggar  of  the  human  species,  a  tribe 
that  in  China  has  as  wretched  representatives  as  it  would  seem 
possible  to  find  anywhere  in  the  world.  I  had  already  seen  many 
beggars  in  potato-sacks,  their  faces  purposely  blackened  with 
coal-dust,  but  I  had  an  idea  that  most  of  them  had  some  pro- 
tection at  night. 

We  walked  again  through  the  silent  alleys  of  Canton,  won- 
dering if  and  how  we  could  break  into  the  episcopal  "palace." 
The  outer  door  to  the  court  was  open  and  fortunately  we  managed 
to  arouse  the  sleeping  police  who  are  always  "on  guard."  Rec- 
ognizing us,  they  passed  us  through  the  inner  gate  and  a  bell 
brought  the  Vicar-General  to  a  window  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had 
been  •summoned  to  a  night  sick-call.  Doubtless  he  was  so  much 
relieved  to  find  this  was  not  the  case  that  he  did  not  mind  the 
interruption,  and  even  if  he  did  he  could  have  given  us  another 
impression  because  the  lengths  to  which  Catholic  missioners 
here  in  the  East  put  themselves  out  for  one  another  and  for 
strangers  is  indeed  edifying. 

When  we  awoke  some  hours  later  we  learned  that  the  Bishop 
was  away  and  would  not  return  until  evening,  so  we  decided  to 
stay  over  another  night  before  leaving  for  Hongkong.  Reckoning 
the  hours  of  sleep  for  several  nights  they  were  not  many,  and  I 
have  a  recollection  of  saying  all  kinds  of  stupid  things  while 
trying  to  talk  that  last  night  to  the  good  Bishop,  who  finally  sug- 
gested that  I  turn  in — which  I  did  gladly  enough. 


293 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

CHAPTER  XIX 

HOMEWARD 

ETURNING  from  Canton  early  the  next  morning 
(March  the  seventh)  by  train,  I  wondered  if  it 
would  be  held  up  by  bandits.  Perhaps  this  thought 
would  not  have  occurred  to  me  had  I  not  been 
obliged  to  carry  a  rather  large  sum  of  money  to 
Hongkong.  In  any  event  the  train  ride  proved  to 
be  quite  respectable  and  I  profited  by  it  to  bring 
my  log  to  date. 

On  this  train  trip  I  met  an  American  with  whom  I  had 
crossed  the  Pacific.  He  is  in  the  employ  of  a  large  Protestant 
organization,  is  the  son  of  a  Protestant  minister,  has  great 
respect  for  Catholic  missioners,  and  is  presumably  married  to  a 
Catholic.  I  have  stumbled  on  several  cases  somewhat  similar 
and  wondered  how  many  such  could  be  found  through  inquiries 
made  by  American  priests.  There  is  doubtless  a  considerable 
leakage  among  English-speaking  Catholics  in  the  Orient — a 
leakage  that  might  be  checked  were  English-speaking  priests 
available. 

Last  Days  at  Hongkong. 

I  had  a  short  wait  before  the  sailing-date  set  for  my  home 
voyage,  and  it  was  passed  between  Hongkong  and  Pokfulum. 
At  Hongkong  there  were  material  preparations  to  be  made. 
At  Pokfulum  there  was  a  breath  of  spiritual  atmosphere  to  be 
drawn  after  months  of  travel  and  preoccupations. 

On  arriving  at  Hongkong  I  found  Bishop  Pozzoni  in  some 
embarrassment.  Good  shepherd  that  he  is  and  very  fond  of  his 
Chinese  subjects,  he  is  not  less  mindful  of  the  "other  sheep" 
who  have  strayed  into  his  fold.  Among  these  other  sheep  are 
several  hundreds,  running  doubtless  to  over  a  thousand,  who 
speak  English,  and  for  these  the  Bishop  is  always  anxious  to 
provide  a  yearly  retreat.  He  had  not  succeeded  in  finding  an 
English-speaking  preacher  in  three  years  and  in  response  to  a 
former  invitation  I  had  given  a  conditional  acceptance,  only  to 
find  that  it  would  interfere  with  my  plans.   Then  I  had  suggested 

294 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  Redemptorists  of  the  PhiHppines,  but  at  the  last  moment  this 
source  also  failed.  In  the  meantime  Bishop  Pozzoni  had  announced 
the  retreat  from  the  pulpit  and  in  the  press.  My  companion, 
who  had  planned,  in  any  event,  to  remain,  consented  to  meet 
the  need,  much  to  the  Bishop's  relief. 

Before  leaving  the  city  for  Pokfulum  Father  Robert  took 
me  to  the  home  of  a  well-to-do  Chinese  who,  with  his  wife  and 
children,  has  embraced  the  Catholic  faith.  The  members  of  the 
family  retain  their  Chinese  dress  but  their  home  is  European, 
inside  and  out,  and  if  the  chopstick  exercise  is  taken  at  all  there 
is  no  trace  of  it  for  the  casual  Western  visitor.  The  family 
was  good  to  look  upon  and  made  one  realize  the  possibilities  and 
advantages  of  similar  conversions  as  the  Chinese  learn  to  know 
the  golden  hearts  of  Catholic  missioners. 

My  stay  at  Nazareth  in  Pokfulum  was  all  too  brief.  It  is 
an  ideal  retirement,  and  the  spirit  that  pervades  this  house 
of  prayer  and  consecrated  toil  must  appeal  especially  to  veterans 
in  the  service  who,  unable  to  exercise  longer  an  active  ministry, 
may  find  here  opportunity  to  prepare  even  remotely  for  the 
great  end  and  be  occupied  meanwhile  with  labors  suited  to  their 
capacity.  When  illness  comes  to  a  priest  at  Nazareth  he  has 
only  to  move  across  the  street  to  Bethany,  where  kind  and 
brotherly  hands  will  minister  to  him  and  where,  unhampered 
by  other  concerns,  he  may  calmly  await  the  reward  of  his  apostolic 
life. 

Tuesday  I  returned  to  the  Procure  for  a  lunch,  which  Father 
Robert,  with  his  usual  thoughtfulness,  had  prepared  in  view  of  my 
departure.  It  was  a  small  gathering,  but  the  pleasanter  for  that. 
Bishop  Pozzoni  came,  also  the  Procurator  of  the  Dominicans, 
the  pastor  of  Kowloon,  and  the  Superiors  of  Bethany  and 
Nazareth.  Father  Jarreau,  once  a  curate  at  St.  Loup,  the  birth- 
place of  Theophane  Venard,  and  whom  I  had  met  while  he  was 
passing  his  year  of  preparation  at  the  Paris  Seminary,  was  also 
present  with  the  priests  of  the  Procure.  Speeches  were  in  order 
and  I  had  an  opportunity  on  this  occasion  to  point  to  the  series 
of  incidents  that  from  the  beginning  of  the  MaryknoU  foundation 
had  linked  our  young  Society  with  those  of  Paris  and  Milan,  as 
also  with  the  Order  of  St.  Dominic. 

295 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE   ORIENT 

That  evening — Tuesday — Father  Fraser  came  up  from  Can- 
ton and  we  lunched  Wednesday  at  the  Dominican  Procure, 
which  was  once  the  private  residence  of  a  wealthy  Chinese  and  has 
an  admirable  outlook  over  the  harbor. 

My  boat,  the  Empress  of  Russia,  sailed  the  next  morning, 
Thursday,  March  14,  on  the  stroke  of  ten  o'clock.  Fathers  Robert 
and  Ouillon,  with  Father  Fraser,  accompanied  me  across  the 
ferry  to  the  dock  at  Kowloon,  where  we  found  the  Superioress 
of  the  Canton  convent  with  Sister  Mary  Angeline,  both  loaded 
with  gifts  for  the  Teresians  at  Maryknoll.  The  much-loved 
Bishop  of  Hongkong  also  came  with  one  of  his  priests  before  the 
steamer  sailed,  and  I  caught  another  glimpse  of  the  Dominican 
Procurator  and  of  the  pastor  of  Kowloon. 

The  Empress  of  Russia  is  no  small  craft  and  it  took  a  few 
half-mile  walks  to  become  acquainted  with  her.  She  is  speedy, 
too,  and  by  Saturday  afternoon  at  an  early  hour  we  were  an- 
chored outside  of  Shanghai.  In  these  days,  however,  to  be 
anchored  outside  a  port  means  to  be  "so  near  and  yet  so  far" — • 
and  it  was  five-thirty  o'clock  beforewecould  land  at  Shanghai  on  a 
tender  that  should  return  at  eight-thirty. 

Among  Chinese  Friends. 

While  in  Shanghai  on  the  down-trip  I  had  met,  through 
Mr.  Lo,  another  well-known  Chinese,  Mr.  Nicolas  Tsu,  who 
had  long  desired  to  have  two  of  his  boys  educated  in  the  United 
States  but  did  not  know  just  how  to  proceed  as  he  feared  to 
send  the  young  men,  unguarded,  away  from  the  home-nest. 
On  that  occasion  I  had  agreed  to  bring  the  boys  with  me  across 
the  Pacific  and,  so  far  as  I  could,  direct  their  education  for  a  time. 

It  was,  I  knew,  a  responsibility,  but  on  the  principle  that 
"to  those  who  love  God  all  things  cooperate  unto  good"  I  felt 
that,  although  these  boys  would  not  come  to  be  trained  as  apostles 
and  to  be  sent  later  from  Maryknoll  to  their  native  land,  they 
would  be  the  first-fruits  of  our  usefulness  as  an  American 
Catholic  Mission  Society  to  the  New  China  that  is  struggling 
to  evolve  in  this  our  day.  While  at  Hongkong  I  had  heard 
through  Father  Hoogers  of  Shanghai,  the  Procurator  of  the 
Scheut  Fathers  and  a  friend  of  Mr.  Tsu,   that    all    arrange- 

296 


2'  > 


H 


^ 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

ments  had  been  made  for  the  boys'  departure,  but  I  still  expected 
that  the  plan  would  have  met  some  obstacle. 

As  our  tender  reached  its  wharf,  however,  I  found  a  line-up 
of  Chinese  gentlemen  with  Mr.  Nicolas  Tsu  at  their  head  and  his 
two  student-sons  already  dressed  like  American  youths,  evidently 
prepared  for  the  "big  voyage."  They  gave  me  a  cordial  wel- 
come, after  which  Mr.  Tsu  treated  me  to  an  exhibition  of  hustle 
that  would  put  the  average  American  business  man  out  of  breath. 

Mr.  Tsu  is  small  of  stature,  a  little  bent,  and  wears  a  skull 
cap  above  his  black  silk  Chinese  clothes.  He  talks  some  English 
and  he  wasted  neither  time  nor  words  on  this  occasion.  As 
soon  as  I  had  greeted  him,  he  asked  two  questions:  What  was 
my  program?  Would  I  dine  with  his  family?  I  had  to  leave 
number  two  contingent  on  my  visit  to  the  Paris  Procure,  where 
I  had  been  so  kindly  entertained  during  my  former  visit,  but  I 
told  Mr.  Tsu  that  probably  I  would  take  dinner  at  his  house. 
In  another  minute  we  were  rocking  through  the  streets  of 
Shanghai  in  a  taxicab.  It  was  then  five-forty.  We  called  at 
my  friend  C — 's,  found  that  he  was  down  at  the  Commercial 
Hotel  arranging  for  a  St.  Patrick's  Eve  Dinner,  ferreted  him 
out  at  the  Hotel,  visited  the  General  Hospital,  then  made  a 
long  jump  to  the  Avenue  Joffre,  where  we  discussed  with  an 
American  steel  representative — a  friend  of  Mr.  Tsu  and  a 
boat-acquaintance  of  my  own — the  training  of  the  youths. 
From  this  point  we  pushed  around  to  the  Paris  Procure,  then 
over  to  Father  Hoogers  of  the  Belgian  Procure,  and  finally 
speeded  for  Chinatown,  a  considerable  distance  away. 

I  had  asked  Mr.  Tsu  to  stop  at  some  store,  as  my  steamer 
cap  had  blown  overboard,  but  he  assured  me  that  we  could 
transact  this  business  at  his  house.  The  program,  so  far,  had 
taken  only  a  little  over  an  hour  and  we  had  reached  the  nearest 
possible  approach  to  Mr.  Tsu's  home,  which  opened  on  an  alley 
too  narrow  for  motor-cars.  As  I  ran  after  my  companion  I 
managed  to  learn  from  him  that  he  was  born  in  the  house  to 
which  we  were  now  going. 

The  young  men  were  awaiting  us  outside,  and,  serving  as 
an  escort,  led  us  through  an  open  courtyard  into  another  that 
was  roofed  and  appeared  to  serve  as  a  reception  room.     It  was 

297 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

dimly  lighted  but  I  could  distinguish  many  persons,  young 
men  in  one  group,  women  in  another,  and  on  the  outer  flanks 
the  servants,  all  curious  to  see  the  American  "kidnapper." 

Then  to  my  surprise  Mr.  Tsu  led  me  into  a  very  attractive 
chapel,  large  enough  to  hold  seventy-five  or  one  hundred  people, 
and  indicated  a  central  kneeling  bench — decorated  for  the 
occasion — which  I  approached,  followed  by  the  entire  household 
as  if  I  were  a  bishop  in  the  Philippines. 

Some  prayers  in  Chinese  began  and  I  realized  that  this  was 
the  "departure  ceremony"  for  the  two  youths  who  that  night 
would  leave  their  homes  for  a  far  distant  land  and  for  a  period 
of  several  years.  The  seriousness  of  the  moment  made  a  deep 
impression  on  me,  and  when  the  father  of  the  family  presented 
the  Holy  Water  sprinkler  my  blessing  was  for  that  Christian 
parent  above  all — and  that  those  under  him  might  be  faithful 
to  his  example.  More  prayers  followed  the  blessing,  the  men's 
voices  on  one  side  of  the  chapel  alternating  with  those  of  the 
women  on  the  other,  and  then  before  leaving  this  little  home- 
shrine  the  father  presented  in  turn  his  own  mother,  a  woman 
nearly  eighty  years  old,  his  wife,  and  his  sons'  wives. 

I  had  already  met  most  of  the  young  men,  who  included  on 
this  occasion  some  cousins.  Two  sons  were  absent,  one  a 
Jesuit  priest  who  labors  in  the  vicariate  of  Kiang-nan  under 
Bishop  Paris,  the  other  an  aviator  in  France  who  has  been 
decorated  several  times.  The  only  daughter  of  Mr.  Tsu  is  a  nun, 
as  is  also  her  aunt,  both  "Helpers  of  the  Holy  Souls."  His 
brother,  as  well  as  his  son,  is  a  Jesuit  priest,  so  that  the  family  is 
well  represented  in  the  ranks  of  the  Church.  As  we  sat  down  to 
the  table — at  which  only  the  male  members  were  gathered — 
I  asked  how  many  persons  made  up  the  normal  household  and 
Mr.  Tsu  replied  at  once,  "Fifty-two."  I  did  not  dare  to  ask 
if  this  included  the  servants  but  I  presume  that  it  did. 

My  active  host  placed  his  watch  on  the  table  and  the  banquet 
began,  with  every  available  space  at  the  doorways  filled  with 
female  members  of  the  family.  The  menu  was  largely  European, 
with  occasional  helpings  of  pigeon  eggs  and  other  Chinese  de- 
lights. After  the  first  course  Mr.  Tsu  called  for  caps  and  one  was 
brought  that  did  not  fit  my  head,  which  seems  to  have  grown 

298 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

larger  under  Eastern  skies.  Then  Mr.  Lo's  son,  a  stalwart 
young  Chinese,  solved  the  difficulty  by  securing  from  his  own 
wardrobe  across  the  street  the  necessary  covering,  an  up-to-date 
English  cap.  During  the  meal  the  two  boys,  Francis  and  Ignatius, 
left  to  say  good-bye  to  their  mother,  whom  I,  too,  hoped  to  meet 
again  before  leaving.  The  meal  was  finished  in  good  time,  and 
Mr.  Tsu,  after  quietly  informing  me  that  he  was  making  a 
present  to  Maryknoll  of  some  vestments,  gave  the  signal  for 
thanksgiving  and  departure.  In  less  than  five  minutes  we  had 
passed  without  another  word  between  lines  of  women  and 
children  (the  mother  was  not  there)  out  into  the  alleys  and  to 
the  waiting  automobiles,  into  which  as  many  of  the  men  crowded 
as  possible.  In  my  car  was  a  brother  of  Mr.  Tsu,  who  had 
visited  Europe  and  been  received  in  audience  by  the  Holy  Father. 

Before  stepping  on  the  tender  that  night  the  boys  embraced 
their  good  father  and  more  than  one  among  the  bystanders 
seemed  to  realize  the  strength  of  the  bond  that  was  being 
strained  by  the  separation  of  that  Chinese  parent  from  his  sons. 
The  tender  was  crowded  and  I  soon  lost  my  charges,  but  they 
turned  up  from  a  sub-cellar  as  we  fastened  an  hour  later  to  the 
great  steamship  and  enjoyed  their  first  inspection  of  the  Empress. 

Every  inch  of  Francis  and  Ignatius  is  new,  at  least  so  far  as 
exterior  equipment  is  concerned.  All  their  lives  they  have  been 
wearing  Chinese  clothing  and  now  they  must  try  to  feel  at  home  in 
trousers  such  as  only  women  wear  in  China,  in  tight-fitting 
waistcoats  and  jackets,  and  in  stiff  collars.  For  nearly  eighteen 
years  they  have  been  taking  as  a  regular  diet  rice  and  the 
fixings,  and  now  they  must  see  rice  rarely,  improperly  cooked,  and 
served  differently  from  the  way  they  "used  to  have  it  at  home." 
But  this  is  life,  one  separation  after  another,  until  we  can  all  get 
together  in  Heaven  with  God. 

"Good-bye,  China,"  I  whispered  to  myself.  "May  we  meet 
again!  And  may  you  be  as  kind  to  the  sons  of  Maryknoll  as  you 
have  been  to  me!" 

On  an  "Empress"  Boat. 

A  cozy  and  retired  place  for  Mass  on  the  Empress  of  Russia 
is  the  writing-room,  which  I  had  used  for  that  purpose  since 

299 


OBSERVATIONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

leaving  Hongkong.  Sunday  morning  I  had  two  servers,  Francis 
and  Ignatius,  and  two  assistants.  Catholic  gentlemen  whom  I 
had  already  met  in  Shanghai. 

Monday  morning,  the  18th,  we  anchored  outside  of  Nagasaki 
and  went  through  the  long  siege  of  a  Japanese  examination. 
Every  seaman  had  to  show  his  face  and  have  his  hand  clutched 
by  the  visiting  physician.  Then  the  passengers  were  ordered 
to  their  places  in  the  dining-room,  where  after  a  considerable 
wait  the  Japanese  medical  officer  appeared  and  a  simple  count 
was  made  of  all.  The  next  move  was  "two  flights  to  the  smoking- 
room,"  where  Japanese  police-officials  were  seated  at  little 
tables,  prepared  to  look  at  every  passport  and  to  inquire  into 
one's  ancestry  and  occupations. 

It  was  an  interesting  line  that  passed  under  the  scrutiny 
of  these  Japan  police-officers,  and  about  every  nation  under  the 
sun  seemed  to  have  its  representative  there.  One  "husky  six- 
footer"  rather  disturbed  his  little  examiners.  Asked  in  what 
country  he  was  born,  he  answered  "Africa,"  getting  down 
gradually  to  Cape  Town.  He  hesitated  to  answer  for  his  parents' 
birthplaces  but  finally  located  one  in  Australia,  the  other  in 
Scotland.  When  asked  for  his  residence  he  replied,  "This 
boat,"  which  the  Japanese  police  did  not  consider  a  serious 
answer,  but  he  softened  their  smiling  wrath  by  a  further  state- 
ment, "London  and  Bombay."  I  learned  afterwards  that  the 
police  made  this  individual  "dance  a  little"  before  they  provided 
him  with  a  permit  to  go  ashore. 

Nagasaki  to  Kobe. 

We  landed  at  Nagasaki  towards  ten  o'clock  and  went  diiectly 
to  the  Mission,  where  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  Bishop 
Combaz  at  home.  Since  my  visit  the  hand  of  death  had  fallen 
upon  the  diocese  and  sickness  had  entered  into  the  episcopal 
household,  but,  as  usual,  all  were  in  good  spirits,  satisfied  with 
what  comes  from  the  hand  of  God. 

The  Bishop  v/as  very  enthusiastic  about  a  corps  of  American 
engineers  who  had  been  stalled  for  some  months  in  Nagasaki, 
waiting  to  get  through  to  Siberia.  Out  of  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  of  them  eighty  were  Catholics.     All  of  these  Catholics 

300 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

attended  the  Midnight  Mass  at  Christmas,  and  sixty  of  the 
eighty  received  Holy  Communion.  Since  then  these  CathoHc 
men  had  been  going  regularly  to  the  little  church  and  one  who 
had  practically  given  up  his  Faith  had  returned.  The  Bishop 
told  me  that  these  Catholic  engineers  have  made  a  very  deep 
impression  on  the  Japanese  of  the  city,  Catholic  and  pagans. 
I  met  one  of  them  later  on  the  street  and  if  he  represented  the 
others,  as  I  heard  that  he  did,  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  enthusiasm 
shown  by  Bishop  Combaz. 

Before  leaving  Nagasaki  we  visited  again  the  Brothers  of 
Mary  and  found  them  quite  happy  in  the  progress  of  their 
school,  which  has  gone  over  the  five  hundred  mark  and  is 
recognized  as  a  strong  educational  factor  in  the  life  of  the  city. 
I  also  took  my  two  Chinese  acolytes  out  to  Urakami,  where 
they  were  impressed  with  the  size  of  the  new  church,  in  which 
five  thousand  Japanese  can  squat. 

Our  boat  left  Nagasaki  late  that  afternoon  for  Kobe.  The 
sail  through  the  Inland  Sea  is  noted  for  its  beauty,  but  much  was 
lost  on  us  as  a  mist  covered  all  but  the  nearest  islands.  The 
Japanese  waters  were  alive  with  fishing  boats  and  ships,  many 
of  which  were  evidently  new.  Japan  is  not  idle  a  moment  these 
days  and  the  hum  of  industry  is  growing  louder. 

We  reached  our  anchorage  outside  of  Kobe  Tuesday  evening 
but  were  not  allowed  to  land  until  six-thirty  the  next  morning. 
However,  in  the  meantime  we  had  again  gone  through  the 
doctor's  scrutiny,  the  police-mills  had  received  our  permits,  and 
we  should  have  no  delay  in  the  morning,  so  that  we  decided 
to  go  to  the  church  for  Mass.  The  Empress  fastened  to  a 
new  dock  shortly  after  six-thirty,  as  promised,  and  we  were  soon 
in  rickshaws  bound  for  the  Tenshudo,  which  we  reached  just 
in  time  for  me  to  follow  Father  Fage  after  his  regular  Mass. 
The  Chinese  boys  served  my  Mass  while  the  Japanese  sexton 
prepared  what  was  necessary. 

A  Veteran  of  the  Missions. 

In  October,  on  my  way  through  the  diocese  of  Osaka,  I 
had  been  unable  to  visit  an  old  priest.  Father  Villion,  whom  I 
knew  by  correspondence  and  who  is  one  of  the  ancients  in  the 

301 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Church  of  Japan.  I  met  Father  Villion  on  the  occasion  of  the 
second  visit  to  Father  Fage.  He  is  what  the  French  call  an 
original  and  I  believe  that  he  rather  enjoys  the  title.  He  is  also 
an  octogenarian,  or  so  near  to  it  that  he  deserves  to  be  called 
such.  For  more  than  fifty  years  he  has  labored  in  Japan  and  has 
entered  deeply  into  the  life  of  its  people  and  into  the  study  of 
its  religion,  especially  Buddhism.  He  has  made  friends  with  all 
classes  and  has,  I  am  told,  through  his  association  with  Buddhist 
priests  been  given  unusual  opportunities  to  know  intimately 
their  cult  and  their  customs.  For  years  Father  Villion  gathered 
data  on  these  subjects  in  the  hope  of  publishing  a  book,  but 
he  could  never  get  enough  money  to  carry  out  his  purpose  and 
as  he  had  no  credit  he  finally  poured  his  literary  treasures  into 
the  laps  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers,  who,  though  like  himself  poor 
individually,  were  apparently  not  so  poor  collectively  as  his 
own  Society.  Father  Villion  had  also  made  friends  with  a  Prot- 
estant minister,  who  left  him,  as  a  legacy,  some  old  clothes 
which  my  ancient  friend  was  "sporting"  when  I  met  him.  They 
certainly  looked  old,  but  the  beneficiary  was  quite  pleased 
with  them. 

Father  Villion  has  no  beard  to  fondle.  He  tore  off  this 
curtain  one  day  some  years  ago  because,  as  he  explained,  it  so 
frightened  his  scholars  that  he  had  to  teach  holding  a  handker- 
chief to  cover  the  monstrosity.  Father  Fage,  who  wears  a 
respectable  beard,  does  not  believe  his  ancient  confrere  on  this 
point  and  insists  that  if  all  other  missioners  were  clean-shaven 
Father  Villion  would  surely  wear  some  sort  of  ridiculous  beard. 
The  old  priest  is  also  an  advocate  of  cold-water  baths  and  is 
never  happier  than  when  he  can  break  ice  to  reach  the  water 
that  he  allows  daily  to  trickle  down  his  backbone  and  spread  over 
his  venerable  form.  He  describes  with  glee  this  process  that  has 
helped  to  bring  him  to  a  ripe  old  age,  and  whatever  the  cause  I 
found  him  truly  a  young  old  man.  I  even  offered  him  a  room  in 
the  new  St.  Joseph's  at  Maryknoll,  but  although  it  appealed  to 
him  I  think  he  would  be  disappointed  not  to  die  in  the  country 
to  which  he  has  given  so  generous  a  portion  of  his  long  life. 

I  took  the  boys,  Francis  and  Ignatius,  up  on  the  hill  that 
day  to  let  them  see  the  city  and  its  harbor;  managed  unwittingly 

302 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

to  keep  good  Father  Fage  from  an  engagement  at  Kyoto;  visited 
some  American  friends  from  Albany;  and  reached  the  boat  in 
time  for  its  sailing  at  four  o'clock. 

Last  Glimpses  of  Japan. 

Yokohama,  our  final  stop  in  Japan,  came  into  view  Thursday 
about  noon.  We  had  hoped  to  see  Fuji  on  the  way,  but  again  the 
mist  would  not  permit  us.  Outside  of  the  Yokohama  breakwater 
we  anchored,  and  after  submitting  anew  to  the  examinations  we 
were  allowed  to  proceed  to  the  dock,  on  which  I  found  Father 
Spenner  (one  of  the  Brothers  of  Mary)  waiting.  We  walked 
to  and  through  the  little  city,  which  seemed  now  to  me  like  an 
old  friend,  and  climbed  the  hill  to  the  Bluff  where  I  called  on  the 
two  old  priests  who,  with  the  help  of  Father  Spenner  and  of 
Father  de  Noailles,  the  Procurator  of  the  Hakodate  diocese,  have 
been  ministering  to  the  spiritual  wants  of  Catholics,  native  and 
foreign,  in  this  busy  seaport.  One  of  these  venerable  men, 
Father  Pettier,  is  very  nearly  blind ;  the  other.  Father  Evrard,  had 
been  recently  at  death's  door  and  was  still  confined  to  his  room. 

We  passed  across  the  street  to  a  Chinese  family  from  Shanghai 
where  my  two  boys,  whose  English  is  very  thin  and  whose  French 
is  a  little  thick,  were  overjoyed,  although  they  did  not  show  it, 
to  converse  in  their  own  dialect  with  one  who  turned  out  to 
be  a  former  resident  of  Shanghai  and  a  friend  of  their  father. 
It  was  then  arranged  that  Ignatius  and  Francis  should  remain 
with  these  Chinese  friends  while  Father  Spenner  took  me  to  the 
college.  We  returned  to  the  boat  for  dinner,  but  I  was  quite 
surprised  to  find  that  my  two  acolytes  had  not  enough  appetite 
to  enter  the  dining-room.  They  had,  it  seems,  taken  some  chop- 
stick  exercise  while  waiting  for  my  return. 

Our  boat  was  not  due  to  sail  until  Saturday  noon  and  as 
we  had  Friday  free  we  left  that  morning  by  the  electric  cars  for 
Tokyo,  arriving  at  the  Cathedral  about  ten-thirty.  Many  changes 
had  taken  place  since  my  first  visit.  Death  had  removed  one 
of  the  priests  who  had  sat  with  us  at  the  Archbishop's  table; 
the  Archbishop  himself  had  taken  up  his  residence  in  another 
quarter  of  the  city;  the  Seminary,  too,  had  been  transferred, 
and  Father  Steichen,  relieved  of  its  direction,  had  been  made 

303 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

cur6  of  the  old  Cathedral.  There  were  other  changes,  shifts 
necessitated  doubtless  by  the  pitiful  lack  of  priests  in  the  arch- 
diocese and  suggesting  a  period  of  severe  trial  to  all  concerned. 

We  had  time  before  dinner  to  visit  the  Jesuits,  where  the 
boys  saw  for  a  few  moments  one  of  their  former  professors 
at  Sicawei  College,  Shanghai,  and  by  good  luck  I  found  the 
Archbishop  on  our  return  to  the  Cathedral.  He  was  kind  as 
usual,  but  evidently  worried,  for  the  Church  of  Tokyo  has  been 
hit  hard  in  many  ways.  That  afternoon,  however,  after  a  visit 
to  the  flourishing  school  of  the  Brothers  of  Mary  where  more  than 
one  thousand  scholars,  representing  some  of  the  best  blood  of 
Japan,  are  in  attendance,  I  could  not  but  feel  that,  although 
the  Mission  itself  has  suffered  in  the  weakening  of  its  personnel, 
the  works  which  have  been  established  under  its  patronage  are 
full  of  promise,  and  are  doubtless  compensating  to  a  considerable 
extent  for  the  losses  of  men  and  means. 

We  went  back  to  our  boat  that  evening,  and  I  said  Mass 
Saturday  morning  at  the  church  on  the  hill.  It  was  cold  and 
very  few  out  of  several  hundreds  of  possible  European  and 
American  worshippers  were  present  for  the  Lenten  Mass;  but 
the  Chinese  family  was  there — father,  mother,  and  children — 
and  all  received  Communion,  as  I  was  told  they  do  every  day. 
I  wondered  how  they  felt  at  times  to  realize  that  they  themselves 
appreciate  the  Catholic  faith  better  than  many  to  whom  they 
would  naturally  look  for  an  example.  Probably  in  their  charity 
they  find  excuses  for  the  omission  of  their  neighbors. 

After  a  farewell  greeting  to  the  two  old  priests  I  left  their 
house  in  company  with  a  young  layman,  who,  on  the  way  to 
Father  Spenner's,  turned  aside  at  my  request  for  a  possible 
view  of  Fuji.  The  mountain  was  in  full  view  and  its  great  cap  of 
snow  seemed  to  be  melting  in  the  morning  sun.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  the  Japanese  are  fond  of  Mount  Fuji.  The  pity  is  that 
any  one  of  them  can  satisfy  his  soul  by  adoring  it. 

I  had  several  things  to  pick  up  that  morning  and  along  the 
way  managed  to  rob  both  Father  Spenner  and  Father  de  Noailles 
of  some  of  their  treasures.  An  ancient  sword  had  already  been 
deposited  in  my  stateroom  and  a  two-hundred-pound  bell  from 
an  old  pagoda,  both  the  gifts  of  missioners,  had  been  stored 

304 


■'i  do  not  wonder  that  the  Japanese  are  fond  of  Fuji.         The  pity  is  that  any  one  of 

them  can  satisfy  his  soul  by  adoring  it.'"     (p.  304.) 


"Ilie  sail  through  the  Inland  ^ca  is  noted  for  its  beauty."     {p.  301.) 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


under  my  name  in  the  hold,  but  we  returned  to  the  steamer 
toward  noon  with  a  rickshaw  full  of  parcels,  all  of  which  I  could 
only  hope  would  get  safely  home  with  me. 

The  good  heart  of  Archbishop  Rey  prompted  him  to  come  to 
Yokohama,  as  he  had  so  graciously  done  to  welcome  me  to 
Japan  and  the  Far  East.  Father  Spenner  had  been  there  also  as 
at  my  arrival.  It  was  like  the  antiphon  to  a  long  series  of  varied 
psalms,  closing  as  it  had  begun,  and  as  I  turned  to  my  stateroom 
when  the  faces  on  the  pier  were  lost  to  view  I  felt  closer  to  Japan 
and  the  Far  East  than  I  had  realized,  and  grateful  beyond  measure 
to  the  bishops  and  priests  who  had,  during  the  months  passed 
among  them,  made  pleasant  and  profitable  my  sojourn,  edifying 
me  with  their  simple  lives,  their  unmixed  piety,  and  their 
untold  patience.  May  God  bless  them  one  and  all!  May  the 
Sons  of  Maryknoll  be  inspired  by  their  spirit! 

Homeward-Bound. 

The  home-voyage  from  Yokohama  was  not  long  and  was 
without  incident.  The  Empress  of  Russia,  large  and  swift,  does 
not  leave  much  to  be  desired  and  if  it  were  not  for  two 
"rounders"  in  my  cabin,  who  "rolled  home"  from  the  card  table 
after  two  o'clock  every  morning  and  slept  until  afternoon,  I 
would  have  found  it  restful.  They  were  birds  of  a  feather,  with 
plumage  thinned  after  many  a  lark,  and  conscience — I  hope  that 
I  have  not  misjudged  them — lulled  to  sleep  long  years  ago. 
After  one  or  two  skirmishes  with  them  and  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  change  my  lodgings  I  resigned  myself  to  the  inevita- 
ble, and  we  managed  to  keep  on  speaking  terms. 

The  first  day  out  was  hardest,  because  the  sea  was  rolling 
and  I  found  the  horizontal  needful.  As  for  my  two  charges — 
Ignatius  fell  first  and  his  sympathetic  twin,  Francis  Xavier, 
soon  followed,  both  keeping  to  their  stateroom  for  the  next  six 
days.  Seasickness,  however,  for  the  Chinese  does  not  affect 
the  appetite  so  seriously  as  for  the  average  American  and  my 
worry  lest  they  should  starve  on  the  trip  soon  disappeared. 
When  they  came  back  to  life  their  one  desire  was  to  see  a  whale, 
but  the  monsters  of  the  deep  are  lying  low  in  these  submarine 
days. 

305 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  missed  my  Mass-servers  but  the  doctor  from  Seattle,  who 
with  his  family  had  joined  the  steamer  at  Yokohama,  replaced 
them  as  the  solitary  worshipper  until  Holy  Thursday,  in  prep- 
aration for  which  I  determined  to  sound  a  call  for  such  practising 
Catholics  as  were  able  to  be  up  and  about.  There  was  a  problem 
to  be  solved  first,  however. 

When  going  to  Japan  across  the  Pacific  we  dropped  a  day 
from  our  lives  and  now,  returning,  we  had  to  add  one,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  know  whether  it  would  be  Wednesday  or  Thursday. 
Late  Wednesday  evening  I  learned  from  the  officers  that  the 
next  day  would  be  Wednesday.  On  that  second  Wednesday  a 
note  appeared  on  the  purser's  bulletin  board — 

HOLY  THURSDAY 

Mass  will  be  offered  in  the   Writing  Room  at  7:30.      Catholics 
desiring  to  receive  Holy  Communion  may  consult — etc.,  etc. 

Great  steamships  with  several  decks  and  numerous  recreation 
centres  do  not  encourage  the  making  of  acquaintances,  and 
besides,  many  traveling  Catholics  hesitate  now-a-days  to  approach 
a  priest  since  certain  classes  of  Protestant  ministers  have  taken 
to  flattering  the  "Romans"  by  buttoning  their  collars  behind 
and  keeping  their  faces  clean-shaved.  It  was  an  agreeable 
surprise,  therefore,  to  find  more  than  a  dozen  of  the  faithful  at 
Mass  on  Holy  Thursday. 

When  Easter  Sunday  arrived  Mass  was  offered  in  the  largest 
recreation  room — at  an  early  hour  (eight  o'clock),  of  course,  so 
as  not  to  interfere  with  the  official  Church  of  England  service. 
For  those  who  participated,  a  score  of  Catholics  representing  at 
least  seven  nationalities,  it  was  a  comforting  and  edifying  sight. 
The  Chinese  attendant  had  prepared  with  palms  a  special 
bay  for  our  little  altar  and  a  set  of  finely-embroidered  white 
vestments,  the  gift  of  Mr.  Nicolas  Tsu  of  Shanghai,  was  brought 
into  requisition.  Several  of  the  score  of  people  present,  including 
one  of  the  officers,  received  Communion  and  during  the  Mass  two 
gifted  young  Italians  who  had  been  touring  the  Far  East  played, 
at  their  own  suggestion,  their  beloved  instruments,  the  violincello 
and  the  violin.  Holy  Saturday  had  brought  up  on  deck  my 
two  Chinese  boys,  and  they  edified  all  as  servers  at  Mass  and 

306 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

by  their  devout  reverence  for  the  Sacrament  which  is  usually 
their  daily  Food. 

Hail,  America! 

Easter  Monday  morning  on  schedule  time  we  were  tied  to 
the  dock  at  Victoria,  but  our  stay  was  too  short  to  allow  passen- 
gers, bound  for  Vancouver,  to  see  this  evidently  progressive 
Canadian  city  of  the  West.  I  telephoned  greetings,  however, 
to  Bishop  MacDonald  who,  always  alert,  whether  to  hit  a 
heretic  on  the  head  or  to  grasp  the  hand  of  an  old  guard,  managed 
to  get  to  the  steamer  before  it  sailed.  He  was  the  first  to  receive 
our  overseas  greetings  and  to  give  the  latest  appreciations  of 
the  war. 

A  telegram  went  to  San  Francisco  that  night  and  another 
across  the  country  to  Maryknoll-on-the-Hudson.  Hand-clasps 
soon  followed  at  both  places  and  a  stop-over  at  Scranton  enabled 
me  to  salute  the  growing  family  at  our  Apostolic  College.  It 
was  good  to  be  home  and  I  doubt  if  the  Te  Deiim  ever  filled  my 
heart  quite  so  full  as  it  did  that  late  afternoon  of  May  when,  on 
arriving  at  Maryknoll,  I  found  in  the  little  chapel,  dedicated  to 
St.  Paul,  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  the  two  communities  gathered 
and  waiting,  in  the  silence  of  the  Holy  of  Holies,  to  join  with  the 
long-absent  father  in  that  marvelous  hymn  of  praise,  and  to 
receive  a  blessing  from  the  tabernacled  Christ. 

Te  per  orhem  terrarum,  sancta  confitetiir  Ecdesia — how  much 
the  words  meant  now!  "Thee  the  Holy  Church  throughout  the 
world  doth  acknowledge.  The  Father,  of  infinite  majesty. 
Thine  adorable,  true,  and  only  Son.  Also  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
Paraclete.  .  .  .  Day  by  day  we  bless  Thee.  And  we  praise 
Thy  Name  forever." 


30/ 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


CHAPTER  XX 

SOME   IMPRESSIONS 

ND  now  that  the  observation  shutter  has  been  closed, 
some  among  those  who  have  followed  this  narrative 
will  be  curious  enough  to  ask  what  strong  impressions 
remain  with  the  writer  as  he  looks  back  on  his 
journey  to  the  Orient. 

Here  are  a  few  very  briefly  recorded : — 


The  Far  East  is  Not  So  Far  after  all. 

One  can  live  there  and  feel  quite  at  home  because  one  can 
lose  his  heart  to  any  country,  and  it  is  a  commonplace  that 
"home  is  where  the  heart  is."  On  the  return  voyage  a  steamer- 
companion,  who  moved  from  the  Middle  West  to  Seattle  some 
years  ago  and  is  now  one  of  that  city's  public-spirited  physicians, 
spoke  of  a  New  York  friend  who  had  visited  him.  The  Doctor 
proudly  showed  this  friend — a  prominent  K.  of  C,  by  the  w^ay — 
the  city  beautiful,  and,  as  they  motored  over  it,  described  its 
marvelous  progress.  The  guest  expressed  quite  properly  his 
appreciation,  and  all  went  well  until,  at  the  end  of  the  drive,  he 
said  to  the  Doctor,  "Fine — but,  how  can  you  live  so  far  away?" 

His  host  turned,  surprised,  and  asked,  "Far  away  from  what?" 

And  the  Easterner  answered  somewhat  hesitatingly,  "Why — 
from  New  York." 

In  the  Orient  there  are  even  New  Yorkers  who  find  themselves 
settled  for  life  with  no  longings  for  the  subway,  or  for  the  eleva- 
ted, or  for  skyscrapers;  and  this  leads  to  another  impression. 

There  are  very  Likable  People  in  the  Orient. 

This  is  especially  true  of  the  Chinese  and  Koreans;  also,  I 
believe,  of  the  Tongkinese.  The  Filipinos  are  likable  but  they 
are  annoying;  and  the  Japanese  are  said  to  love  themselves  too 
well  to  be  loved  by  others,  and  yet  they  are  often  charming. 
Most  of  the  English-speaking  business  and  professional  men 
whom  I  met  confined  their  observations  to  the  Chinese  and 
almost  unanimously  referred  to  them  as  the  most  lovable  of  all 
peoples. 

308 


OBSERVATI ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

This  judgment  will  strike  the  average  American  reader  as 
strange,  simply  because  he  has  never  seen  more  of  a  Chinaman 
than  what  is  exhibited  in  the  laundry  window  of  his  home  town. 
And  he  has  read  or  heard  little  of  their  qualities  and  much  of 
their  misdeeds. 

There  are  shrewd  Chinese  but  the  masses  of  the  people 
impress  one  as  honest,  peace-loving  and  simple.  They  suffer 
much  but  patiently,  and  a  sense  of  humor  more  than  normal 
attracts  one  to  them.  The  Chinese  children  are  not  so  precocious 
as  the  Japanese  but  they  are  bright  and  quite  delightful. 

A  Word  about  Morals  in  China. 

A  Chinese  Catholic  once  remarked  to  me,  "Chinese  boys — 
some  good,  some  bad — like  Melican  boys" Oind  I  could  hardly  see 
my  way  to  oppose  the  statement. 

While  China  is  overrun  today  with  bandits,  its  coast  infected 
by  pirates,  and  petty  larceny  frequent — conditions  for  which 
unprincipled  politicians  are  largely  responsible — the  Chinese, 
as  a  people,  are  found  honest,  industrious,  patient,  and  religicrus. 
They  are  also  in  many  respects  far  more  moral  than  any  realize 
except  those  who  have  lived  among  them.  Here  is  an  example 
that  can  be  multiplied: 

Father  Thomas  of  Sancian  Island  is  practically  its  local 
magistrate,  and  is  in  direct  contact  with  about  ten  thousand 
people,  of  whom  eight  thousand  are  pagan.  He  has  spent  over 
a  decade  of  years  among  these  people  and  in  that  period  of  time 
has  never  known  of  more  than  three  cases  of  adultery.  In  every 
instance  the  indignant  people,  taking  the  law  into  their  own  hands 
brought  the  offenders  out  into  the  bay,  tied  them  together,  and 
sank   them   with   weighted   stones. 

"Drastic" — "cruel" — you  say.  Yes — and  so  appears  to  us 
the  Old  Testament  law  which  provided  for  the  stoning  to  death 
of  the  unfortunate  woman.  In  these  days  while  the  earth  is  still 
freshly  saturated  with  the  blood  of  millions  who,  Christians  in 
name,  fought  one  another  like  barbarians,  what  was  "drastic" 
and  "cruel"  often  escaped  comment  and  only  the  effect  was  noted. 
In  any  event  we  wish  that  in  this  our  own  country  the  crime  of 
adultery  could  arouse  indignation  as  commonly  as  it  does  in  China. 

309 


OBSERVAT IONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

Polygamy,  it  is  true,  is  sanctioned  and  quite  usual  in  China 
among  men  of  means,  but  we  must  recall  that  these  men  have 
not  yet  been  reached  by  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Refinements  of  Civilization. 

If  the  reader  happens  to  live  in  any  of  our  large  cities  he  can 
probably  find  an  emporium  for  the  sale  of  things  Oriental,  or  a 
museum  in  which  they  are  exhibited.  If  not,  he  has  access  to  a 
public  library  which  can  hardly  lack  books  on  the  Far  East. 
He  need  not,  therefore,  travel  in  order  to  be  impressed  with  the 
artistic  sense  of  our  Asiatic  brothers. 

He  will  find  work  in  ivory,  marble,  silver,  gold,  and  em- 
broidery that  is  almost  a  miracle  of  patience  and  skill,  and  he  will 
probably  see  reproductions  of  paintings  and  photographs  of 
structures  that  would  delight  his  eye  still  more  could  he  see  the 
originals  in  their  often  perfect  coloring. 

He  must  live  among  these  people,  however,  to  realize  that 
behind  them  is  a  refinement  of  literature  and  art,  as  well  as  a 
moral  sense,  all  based  on  religious  foundations  crude  and  un- 
satisfactory though  they  be.  He  must  see  them  at  work  in  their 
own  environment  and  note  what  they  have  already  accomplished 
to  understand  the  future  possibilities  of  these  peoples  so  recently 
emerged  from  their  isolation.  Little  by  little,  as  he  comes  into 
personal  touch  with  all  that  is  good  in  them,  he  will  understand 
how  it  is  that  an  educated  pagan  of  the  Orient  can  often  smile 
quietly  and  unobserved  as  he  looks  upon  certain  products  of 
Western  civilization. 

American  Prestige. 

No  traveler  can  return  from  Eastern  Asia  without  frequent 
thought  of  the  thousands  of  Europeans  and  Americans  who  live 
in  the  great  cities  along  its  coast  line  or  here  and  there  in  the 
interior.  Several  of  these  thousands  are  connected  with  missions 
as  priests,  brothers,  and  nuns;  or,  if  Protestants,  as  ministers, 
deaconesses,  medical  men  and  women,  and  teachers  in  schools 
or  colleges.  Other  thousands,  in  business,  in  the  professions,  or 
in  the  Government  service,  have  chosen  to  spend  a  portion,  if  not 
all,  of  their  lives  in  those  distant  lands. 

310 


Rev.  Bernard  F.  Meyer, 

Rev.  James  E.  Walsh,  Iowa.  Rev.  Francis  X.  Ford, 

Maryland.  The  late  Rev.  Thomas  F.  Price,  New  York. 

N.  Carolina. 

MARYKNOLL'S   FIRST  APOSTLES   TO   CHINA 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

I  came  away  from  the  Orient  with  a  decidedly  strong  im- 
pression that,  of  all  the  foreigners  residing  there,  Americans 
from  the  United  States  are  today  the  favorites,  especially  with 
the  Chinese;  and  that  the  prestige  of  American  citizenship  would 
be  helpful  to  the  influence  of  Catholics  there,  not  because  of 
American  power  and  Avealth,  but  because  our  Government  has 
won  the  respect  of  Asiatics  and  is  looked  upon  as  unselfish, 
with  no  territorial  ambitions.  This  impression  of  American 
prestige  has,  I  confess,  often  awakened  the  regret  which  every 
American  Catholic  feels  once  he  realizes  that  there  is  only  a 
handful  of  American-born  priests  in  the  whole  of  Asia. 

We  can  offer  our  excuses,  of  course,  for  this  lack  of  represen- 
tation, but  no  one  can  honestly  say  that  the  hackneyed  "too- 
much-to-do-at-home"  excuse  has  justified  our  aloofness  in 
recent  years.  We  are  learning  that  we  have  been  narrow — 
uncatholic;  and  this  knowledge  will  react  not  only  on  the  missions 
but  on  the  life  of  the  Church  at  home. 

English-speaking  Priests  Needed. 

English  is  the  language  most  commonly  spoken  by  these 
"strangers  within  the  gates"  and  English  is  the  language  which 
the  Eastern  Asiatic,  with  the  exception  of  the  Tongkinese,  is 
most  anxious  to  learn. 

The  absence  of  English-speaking  priests  has  been  widely 
noted  in  the  Far  East  and  often  commented  upon  by  the  resident 
foreigners,  but  it  has  worked  particular  hardship  for  English- 
speaking  Catholics,  laymen  and  women,  who  number,  in  Shanghai 
alone,  some  fifteen  hundred,  not  to  speak  of  Peking,  Tientsin, 
Hongkong  (a  British  possession),  or  the  great  cities  of  Japan. 
For  these,  opportunities  to  assist  regularly  at  Mass  are,  of  course, 
provided  and  English  sermons  are  preached  in  some  cities  of 
Japan,  also  in  China  at  Tientsin,  at  Hongkong,  and  occasionally 
in»  Shanghai,  but  often  the  English  is  broken  and  ineffective. 
Besides  there  is  the  question  of  what  the  French  call  mentalii'e. 
It  is  difficult  for  a  priest  whose  native  tongue  is  not  English  to 
appreciate  the  habits  of  thought  and  view-points  of  the  English- 
speaking,  especially  if  he  has  never  lived  among  them  iu  their 

311 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

own  habitats.  It  is  hard  enough  for  the  several  English-speaking 
peoples  to  catch  one  another's  view-point. 

At  all  events  I  came  away  with  the  impression  that  many 
English-speaking  Catholics  are  not  getting  the  spiritual  aid 
which  they  need  and  which  they  honestly  desire  to  have.  I 
believe,  however,  that  this  condition  can  be  easily  remedied, 
especially  in  missions  controlled  by  the  Jesuits,  Lazarists,  and 
Franciscans.  All  of  these  Orders  have  houses  and  recruits  in 
English-speaking  countries  and  the  transfer  of  a  comparatively 
few  earnest,  zealous  priests  would  largely  solve  the  difficulty. 

A  closer  association  of  these  English-speaking  Catholics  with 
priests  who  understand  them  would  also  benefit  the  missions. 
I  met  many  excellent  and  influential  Catholic  laymen,  some  of 
whom  stand  high  in  their  professions  or  in  business  life,  but  I  was 
always  impressed  with  their  ignorance  of  Catholic  mission 
activities.  Some  of  these  men  could  and  would  help  the  Church's 
work  of  evangelization  but  apparently  the  idea  has  never  been 
suggested  to  them. 

Resources  for  the  Missions. 

Before  leaving  Canton  I  was  asked  by  Bishop  de  Gu^briant 
what  single  fact  in  connection  with  my  tour  of  the  missions  had 
most  impressed  me. 

The  answer  that  occurred  to  me  at  the  moment  was  the 
fact  that  the  recent  progress  of  the  Church  has  been  due,  under 
God,  largely  to  the  resources  of  the  missions  themselves. 

For  years  I  had  been  under  the  impression  that  the  great 
bulk  of  mission  support  for  the  Far  East  was  gathered  in  Europe, 
and  lately  to  some  extent  in  America. 

I  had  heard  so  much  of  the  excessively  low  cost  of  living  and 
of  construction,  and  of  bought  babies  at  ten  cents  a  head,  that  I 
pictured  priests  who  received  their  yearly  allowance  from  the 
mission-aid  societies,  a  fair  share  of  Mass  intentions,  and  some 
occasional  small  gifts,  yielding  a  total  income  of  three  or  four  hun- 
dred dollars  annually,  as  quite  well-off  and  able  to  push  all 
needed  works. 

I  found,  in  China  at  least,  and  I  believe  the  same  statement 
will  apply  elsewhere,  that  when  Catholic  missioners  have  no 

312 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

other  material  resources  than  the  regular  allotments  made  from 
our  poorly  sustained  mission-aid  societies  in  Europe  and  America, 
they  can  do  hardly  more  than  keep  together  body  and  soul,  and 
possibly  hold  the  people  around  them.  They  cannot  make  any 
appreciable  progress.  Not  every  missioner  receives  a  dollar  a  day 
from  home-sources,  but  even  this  amount  is  hardly  more  than 
enough  for  his  household  expenses  and  for  the  upkeep  of  a  few 
works  already  established. 

Fortunately  in  some  vicariates  funds  have  been  accumulated, 
the  interest  of  which  is  enabling  the  bishops  to  supply  priests 
with  allowances  sufficient  to  carry  on  necessary  activities. 

These  funds,  which  are  mainly  in  the  hands  of  the  Jesuits 
and  Lazarists,  are  the  combined  result  of  indemnities  paid 
by  the  Chinese  Government  and  of  land  investments  made 
years  ago  by  missioners  who  with  a  few  dollars  purchased 
what  today  is  valued  by  thousands.  Added  to  this  income  are 
sometimes  the  offerings  of  the  faithful  who,  when  they  can  afford 
it,  give  generously  to  the  Church.  The  higher  schools,  too,  con- 
ducted in  the  great  cities  by  Brothers  for  boys  and  by  Sisters  for 
girls,  are  self-supporting  as  are  some  of  the  larger  hospitals. 

These  mission  resources  are,  it  will  be  seen,  quite  accidental, 
but  with  a  new  China,  cleared  of  bandits,  and  open  to  industrial 
development,  native  Catholics  will  gladly  help  to  support  their 
priests  and  do  their  share  in  enabling  them  to  push  further  into 
the  interior  the  Saving  Cross  of  Jesus  Christ.  In  China  and 
Indo-China  I  saw  churches,  excellent  buildings,  that  bear  witness 
to  the  generosity  of  Chinese  Catholics — a  generosity,  as  it  was 
expressed,  "rivaling  that  of  the  'ages  of  faith'  in  Europe." 

The  resources  mentioned  above  are,  it  must  be  remembered, 
limited  to  certain  districts.  There  are  missions  in  the  care  of 
Lazarists  or  Jesuits  that  must  get  along  as  best  they  can  on  the 
inadequate  subsidy  provided  from  Europe  and  America,  and  I 
believe  it  is  safe  to  say  that  nearly  all  other  missions  are  in  this  class. 

We  stay-at-home  Catholics  have  not  grasped  the  situation 
of  our  missioneis  and  the  fault  is  not  altogether  ours.  The 
average  foreign  missioner  has  written  too  much  in  terms  of 
pennies  about  his  personal  needs,  and  has  not  sufficiently 
impressed  American  Catholics  with  his  propaganda  requirements, 

313 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

so  that  even  today  many  who  give  to  the  propagation  of  the 
faith  beUeve  that  on  a  few  dollars  a  year  a  missioner  can  support  not 
onlyhimself  but  also  every  needed  work  connected  withhismission. 

A  bishop  in  China  told  me  that  it  costs  him  about  $1500  to 
bring  his  priests  together  for  their  annual  retreat.  Who  of  us  has 
ever  considered  this  single  item  in  a  missionary  bishop's  budget? 

Our  interest  in  missions  has  been  often  rhetorical  rather  than 
real.  We  have  visioned  the  heroic  priest  holding  aloft  a  crucifix 
as  he  preached  to  the  multitudes,  and  winning,  perhaps,  a  mar- 
tyr's crown.  But  we  must  now  picture  him  preparing  native 
priests  and  catechists  to  be  his  helpers,  erecting  churches, 
chapels,  catechumenates,  schools,  and  dispensaries,  houses  for 
priests  and  other  shelters  for  the  faithful  religious  who  help  him 
if  he  is  fortunate  to  secure  such ;  and  we  must  see  him  "in  journey- 
ings  often,"  paying  well  for  the  service  required  on  his  travels 
or  for  that  at  his  home,  for  the  transportation  of  merchandise, 
for  nourishing  food,  for  medicines,  and  for  countless  other  needs. 

Native  Priests. 

Not  the  least  of  the  favorable  impressions  I  received  in  the 
Far  East  concerned  the  native  priests.  I  met  them  in  Japan, 
Korea,  China  and  Indo-China,  and  the  experience  always 
deepened  in  me  an  appreciation  of  their  strong  faith  and  humility, 
giving  motive  to  their  upright  lives  and  constancy.  There  were 
varying  opinions  about  their  qualities  of  mind,  powerof  initiative, 
and  ability  to  rule,  but  only  one  answer  could  be  given  to  the 
question  of  largely  multiplying  their  numbers.  This  must  be 
done  for  the  spread  and  security  of  Catholic  faith  in  the  Orient. 

"What  country  impressed  you  most  as  a  fertile  ground  for 
mission  enterprise?" 

This  is  a  question  that  has  been  asked  by  many — and  the 
answer  is  not  difficult  as  I  look  along  the  line  of  travel  and  con- 
sider in  turn  the  countries  visited. 

It  was  not  Japan.  If  that  little  Empire  is  today  becoming 
awaie  that  "nobody  loves  her"  she  has  caught  the  sentiment  of 
the  outside  world.  As  a  passing  visitor  I  liked  Japan  and  the 
Japanese,  but  in  the  mind  of  practically  every  foreigner  I  met  in 

314 


o 

o 

H 


w 


I— I 
c 

CO 


K 
H 


O 
H 

<; 
o 

o 


o 


o 


OBSEP.VATI  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

the  Orient — European,  American  or  Australian — I  found  always 
the  same  judgment,  a  "people  proud  in  their  own  conceits" — too 
proud  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  the  Carpenter's  Son.  Catholic 
priests  in  Japan,  as  in  all  countries  where  they  labor,  are  loyal 
to  the  country  of  their  flock  but  even  they  begin  to  scent  danger 
in  the  re-awakened  cult  of  ancestors  and  in  the  rigid  supervision 
of  all  educational  establishments. 

It  is  fifteen  years  since  I  heard  a  European  who  had  lived  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century  in  Japan  declare  that  his  adopted  country 
was  rotting  with  pride  and  must  be  crushed,  in  the  Providence 
of 'God,  before  it  could  rise;  but  he  added  with  warmth  in  his 
soul,  "Then  Japan  will  begin  to  live  and  to  be  loved!"  Certain- 
ly, the  spectacle  of  thousands  among  the  Japanese,  who  during 
a  period  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  kept  the  Faith  without 
the  help  of  priest  or  altar,  points  to  possibilities  now  obscured. 

And  if  tomorrow  sons  of  Maryknoll  should  be  ordered  to 
Japan,  they  would  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  to  labor,  without 
visible  fruit,  in  the  hope  and  belief  that  the  Seed  of  the  Word, 
falling  on  barren  ground,  would  some  day  be  swept  on  to  a 
receptive  soil. 

What  has  just  been  said  of  Japan  applies,  unhappily,  also  to 
Korea,  which  only  a  few  years  ago  fell  under  the  strong  rule  of 
the  Island  Empire.  Until  then,  for  some  years  previous,  no 
people  in  the  Far  East  were  more  responsive  to  the  influence  of 
Christianity  than  the  simple,  kindly  Koreans.  Today,  however, 
distrust  is  in  the  air  and  silently  but  surely  the  heart  of  Korea  is 
hardening  under  the  watchful  eyes  of  its  new  master. 

In  spite  of  this  discouraging  outlook  we  cannot  but  express 
the  hope  that,  as  an  outcome  of  the  world-war,  Japan  will 
realize  that  to  be  truly  great  she  must  give  up  principles 
and  practises  that  stamp  her  in  the  eyes  of  other  nations 
as  petty,  though  strong — and  that  above  all  she  cannot 
afford  to  be  intolerant  in  matters  of  religion.  There  are, 
I  am  convinced,  many  far-seeing  Japanese  statesmen  who 
recognize  the  value  of  Christianity  and  who  admit  the 
influence  for  good  of  the  Catholic  Church  upon  the  patriotism 
of  its  subjects,  its  inculcation  of  respect  for  civil  authority, 
and  the  value  to  every  nation  of  its  high  moral  standards.     I 

315 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 


have  heard  it  said  that  the  Japanese  admire  the  CathoHc  Church 
more  than  any  other  outside  religious  body;  they  characterize 
it  as  "serious"  in  contrast  to  Protestant  bodies,  but  they  think 
it  requires  too  much  from  its  adherents. 

Indo- China  as  a  field  for  mission  enterprise  has  much  to 
commend  it,  but  as  it  is  under  the  control  of  France  it  does  not 
appeal  strongly  to  an  American  Catholic  missionary  enterprise. 
We  have  been  assured,  however,  that  in  these  days  the  French 
Government  would  offer  no  objection  to  the  establishment  there 
of  American  priests,  and  certainly  the  soil  that  has  been  crim- 
soned with  the  blood  of  Th^ophane  Venard  and  so  many  other 
martyrs  is  appealing. 

As  for  the  Philippines,  the  most  that  can  be  hoped  for  is 
that  the  Church  may  hold  her  own  there.  It  is  a  question  of 
keeping  the  Faith  in  those  who  have  had  it,  rather  than  the 
evangelization  of  new  peoples. 

China  yet  remains  to  be  mentioned,  and,  as  the  reader  knows, 
it  has  the  preference,  in  our  judgment,  as  the  most  fertile  field. 
Why? 

Because  it  contains  so  many  people — more  than  any  other 
country;  because  these  people  have  qualities  of  mind  and  heart 
as  well  as  religious  traditions  that  fit  them  for  the  Christian 
faith ;  because  they  have  in  so  many  instances  proved  themselves 
worthy  followers  of  the  Crucified  Christ. 

Catholics  in  China  number,  it  is  true,  only  two  millions  out 
of  four  hundred  million  pagans,  but  the  yearly  increase,  until 
war  conditions  interrupted,  of  100,000,  secured  with  a  limited 
personnel  and  a  comparatively  sm.all  financial  backing,  reveals 
a  bright  promise.  This  is  why  the  American  Seminary  for 
Foreign  Missions  was  glad  when  the  call  came  for  her  pioneers 
to  go  to  China. 

There  are  present  difficulties,  it  must  be  admitted,  in  the 
Chinese  Mission,  but  these  come  mostly  from  a  disturbed  political 
condition  which  must  eventually,  and  soon,  we  hope,  be  removed. 
The  change  from  an  isolated  Empire  to  a  would-be  United  States 

316 


OBSERVAT I  QMS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

of  China  was  too  sudden  and  the  resultant  civil  wars  brought 
business  to  a  standstill,  hurt  the  development  of  land  and  of 
industries,  and  produced  a  generation  of  unscrupulous 
leaders  whose  one  ambition  with  few  exceptions  was  to  make 
money,  and  whose  example  has  affected  all  classes,  especially 
the  army.  The  people  have  suffered  much  in  consequence, 
and  have  been  practically  without  protection,  as  the  Chinese 
soldiers  have  the  reputation  of  doing  more  harm  than  good. 
A  Chinese  proverb  says,  "  It  is  not  the  honest  man  that  dons  the 
soldier's  uniform."  But  with  the  coming  of  peace  after  a  world- 
war  we  may  confidently  expect  that  its  effect  will  be  felt  on 
China,  whose  millions,  by  nature  pacific,  desire  only  an  oppor- 
tunity to  live,  to  work,  and  to  learn. 

Further  difficulties  arise  from  the  changing  conditions  due  to 
the  influx  of  Western  ideas.  The  battle  between  Christianity 
and  Paganism  is  being  rapidly  transferred  to  the  schools.  Pagan 
schools  are  being  established  in  all  parts  of  the  country  and  the 
equipment  is  such  as  to  attract  young  men  who  otherwise  would 
turn  to  Christian  establishments.  The  Protestant  denominations 
are  striving  to  offset  this  influence  by  the  counter-attraction  of 
good  schools,  but  it  is  generally  admitted  that  their  appeal  is 
rather  to  a  natural  than  to  a  supernatural  religion.  Catholic 
missioners  long  to  establish  all  over  China  schools  to  correspond 
with  the  grammar  grades  in  this  country;  and  this  desire  will 
be  realized  if  they  can  succeed  in  clutching  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  us  stay-at-homes. 

The  After- Word. 

The  writer  returned  to  MaryknoU  in  April,  1918.  That  same 
month  the  Sacred  Congregation  of  Propaganda  confirmed  the 
agreement  that  had  been  made  the  previous  Christmas  between 
the  Vicar-Apostolic  of  Canton,  representing  the  Paris  Seminary, 
and  the  American  Foreign  Missions  of  MaryknoU. 

Later,  a  second  rescript  from  Rome  announced  a  further 
addition  to  the  field  outlined  in  this  agreement,  and  on  Septem- 
ber 7  the  first  four  missioners  left  MaryknoU  for  China,  by 
way  of  San  Francisco,  Honolulu,  Japan  and  the  Philippines.  As 
they  passed  from  port  to  port  they  were  welcomed  as  brothers 

317 


OBSERVAT I ONS    IN    THE    ORIENT 

by  European  priests,  but  particularly  significant  was  their 
reception  at  Shanghai  where  a  dinner  was  arranged  for  them  by  a 
Chinese  Catholic,  whose  family  has  had  the  Faith  for  three 
hundred  years  and  who,  when  they  were  leaving,  gave  them 
"two  hundred  dollars  to  start  the  American  Mission.'^ 

A  month  later  these  four  missioners,  accompanied  by  a 
French  priest,  left  Canton  for  Yeungkong,  the  principal  centre 
of  the  MaryknoU  Mission,  and  the  start  is  thus  described  in  a 
letter  written  by  one  of  them  just  before  the  departure: 

Tonight  we  leave  for  Yeunkong  on  a  "junk  de  luxe"  and  we 
shall  he  "some  cavalcade'' — five  priests,  four  catechists,  two  hoys 
{domestics),  one  professor  of  Chinese,  and  about  thirty  pieces 
of  haggage. 

It  seems  imposing,  hut  the  pirates  won't  get  much  if  they  hold 
us  up,  which  is  not  at  all  improbable,  because  our  goods  and  chattels, 
though  bulky,  would  not  reach  a  high  figure  at  a  Chinese  auction. 
We  are  all  well  and  happy,  determined  to  give  the  best  that  is  in 
us  to  the  work  we  came  to  do. 

A  few  days  later  in  the  chapel  of  an  abandoned  mission 
MaryknoU  priests  offered  their  Christmas  Masses.  The  place 
was  bare  but  so  had  been  the  cave  at  Bethlehem,  and  angels 
hovered  over  their  poor  altar  as  they  did  above  the  rude  cradle 
of  the  Divine  Infant,  joining  in  celestial  melody  with  the  whispered 
words  of  the  Introit  of  the  Feast: 

All  the  ends  of  the  earth  have  seen  the  salvation  of  Our  God. 
Sing  joyfully  to  God  all  the  earth.  The  Lord  hath  made  known 
His  Salvation.  He  hath  revealed  His  Justice  in  the  sight  of  the 
Gentiles.  A  hallowed  day  hath  dawned  for  us;  come  ye  Gentiles, 
and  adore  the  Lord:  for  this  day  a  great  light  hath  descended  upon 
the  earth.  —Ps.  XCVII. 


(The  End) 


318 


INDEX 


Americans  in  Far  East,  laity,  35,  72, 

63,  71,  73,  74,  75,  76,  77,  94,  100, 
107,  108,  114,  115,  116,  122,  147, 
149,  159,  175,  193,  245,  274,  275, 
276,  279,  300,  301,  303,  308,  310, 
311;  missioners,  4,  10,  18,  26,  40, 
52,  65,  71,  97,  98,  111,  112,  122, 
123,  132,  133,  154,  175,  176,  184, 
229,  230,  231,  237,  316. 

Amoy,  182. 

Anhwei,  134,  144,  150. 

Anju,  97. 

Annamite  Traits,  249,  250,  255,  264, 

266,  269,  270. 
Antipolo,  239. 
Antung,  97. 

Armenians  in  Far  East,  35. 
Asylums    (see    also    "orphanages"), 

64,  110,  128,  140,  161,  167,  168, 
192,  236,  267,  268. 

Augustinians,  237. 

Aumaitre,  Fr.,  92. 

Aurientis,  Fr.,  68,  69. 

Australians  in  Far  East,    148,   182, 

315. 
Austrians  in  the  Far  East,  missioners, 

151. 

Bac-Ningh,  251. 

Batangas,  241. 

Beards,  32,  34,  170,  171,  302. 

Beaulieu,  Fr.,  91. 

Belgians  in  the  Far  East,  missioners, 

24,  153,  201. 
Benedictines,  92,  94. 
Berlioz,  Bp.,  52-60. 
Berneux,  Bp.,  91. 
Bethany  (see  also  "Nazareth"),  186, 

187,  295. 
Bigole't,  Bp.,  258. 
Bourassa,  Abbe,  194. 
Boxers,  97,  105,  111,  112,  119,  120, 

121,  127. 
Brothers'(see  also  "Brothers  of  Mary" 

and   "Native   Brothers"),   23,   36, 

111,  123,  126,  131,  133,  154,  160, 

196,  258,  285. 
Brothers  of   Mary,   23,   2,Z,   36,   40, 

44,  45,  65,  70,   71,   79,   112,   113, 

131,  139,  153,  181,  301,  303,  304. 
Buffalo,  4. 

Canadians  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  90, 
148,  279;  missioners,  138,  154^ 
194,  195,  202-205. 

Canossa,  140. 


Canton,  20,  184,  191-197,  200,  206, 
207,  210,  245,  281,  282,  291,  292, 
293,  318. 

Catholic  Church,  universality  of, 
10,  18,  20,  26,  40,  65,  90,  306. 

Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of 
America  (see  also  "Maryknoll"), 
4,  13,  175,  176,  177,  184,  197,  247, 
296,  317. 

Carmelites,  13,  15,  149. 

Catechists,  58,  130,  165,  169,  208, 
245,  249,  258,  261,  265,  274,  276, 
282 

"Cemetery,"  197-199. 

Chala,  123. 

Chaminade,  Fr.,  45. 

Chaston,  Fr.,  91. 

Chatron,  Bp.,  31,  69,  70,  71,  73. 

Chemulpo,  89,  90. 

Chengtingfu,  117,  124,  125-130,  140. 

Chicago,  4,  5,  134. 

China,  92-222,  266,  267,  313,  316, 
317. 

China  Sea,  272,  284,  286. 

Chinese  Traits,  287,  291,  295,  296- 
299,  304,  308-310. 

Chinese  in  America,  14,  17,  18,  174, 
196,  296. 

Choulet,  Bp.,  98,  99,  100,  101,  103, 
104,  105. 

Christian  Brothers,  274. 

Christmas  at  Canton,  193-197. 

Church  buildings,  21,  22,  34,  35,  37, 
38,  44,  53,  56,  61,  64,  69,  73,  75. 
78,  83,  85,  86,  87,  88,  89,  90,  94, 
99,  100,  109,  118,  126,  132,  143, 
149,  155,  156,  165,  178,  186,  189, 
191,  192,  193,  199,  209,  216,  248, 
255,  257,  258,  270,  284,  285,  301, 
313 

Chusan,  155,  158,  160-163,  171,  172. 

Cistercians,  123. 

Clet,  Bl.,  134. 

Combaz,  Bp.,  75,  80,  300,  301, 

Conrardy,  Fr.,  201. 

Corregidor,  225,  241. 

Cothonay,  Pere,  247,  248,  249,  251, 
252,  263-269. 

Customs,  32,  36,  37,  38,  42,  43,  44, 
46,  47,  48,  52,  59,  62,  66,  67,  68, 
77,  80,  82,  83,  85,  86,  87,  88,  90, 
92,  93,  98,  99,  101,  103,  104,  106, 
121,  125,  127,  132,  133,  135,  138, 
152,  153,  158,  159,  160,  162,  163, 
165,  167,  172,  179,  181,  187,  188, 
193.  194,  211,  214,  217,  227,  229, 


319 


230,  232,  233-235,  238,  239,  241, 

243,  244,  246,  248,  249,  250,  253. 

254,  255,  256,  264,  265,  271,  272, 

274,  280,  289,  291,  293,  298.  299, 

Damien,  22,  23,  26,  201. 

Daveluy,  Bp.,  91. 

de  Azevedo  e  Castro,  Bp.,  209,  212. 

de  Breteni^res,  Just,  82,  91. 

De  Gu^briant,   Bp.,   184,   185,    192, 

193,  195,  196,  197,  207,  276,  285, 

293,  296,  312. 
Delegate,    Apostolic,    see    "Petrelli, 

Msgr." 
Demange,  Bp.,  84-86. 
Denver,  7. 

De  Vienne,  Bp.,  124-127,  129,  130. 
Difficulties  of  evangelization,  19,  62, 

105,  136,  188,  206,  228,  230,  231, 
261,315,316,317. 

Dispensaries,  see  "Hospitals." 
Doison,  282,  283,  287,  288,  289. 
Dominicans,  182,  230,  236,  243,  248, 

251,  263-268,  295,  296. 
Dong- Van,  253. 
Dorie,  Henri,  82,  91. 
Dormitory,  students',  in  Philippines, 

236-238. 
Dougherty,  Abp.,  4,  5,  226. 
Dowling,  Abp.,  5. 
Dumond,  Bp.,  109-115. 
Dunn,  Msgr.,  3,  54,  58,  61. 

Earthquake,  273,  274. 

Education,  see  "Schools." 

English  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  35,  94, 

106,  113,  144,  146,  147,  148,  174, 
189;  missioners,  120,  121,  128,  143, 
146. 

English-speaking  missioners  needed, 
76,  79,  101,  112,  114-116,  147,  149, 
177,  185,  186,  237,  238,  243,  294, 
295,311,312. 

English,  teaching  of,  57,  112,  113, 
132,  133,  136,  141,  144,  147,  156, 
209,  236,  243. 

Evrard,  Fr.,  34,  35,  303. 

Farley,  Cardinal,  4. 

Fatiguet,  Bp.,  143. 

Faveau,  Bp.,  179,  180. 

Favier,  Bp.,  118. 

Fielding,  Lady,  128,  143. 

Filipino  Traits,  229,  230, 231 ,  240, 308. 

Floods,  106-108,  109-111,  124. 

Foley,  Bp.,  225,  226,  228-230,  240, 

241,  242. 
Franciscans     (see     also     "Sisters"), 

131,  133,  136,  142,  145,  312. 
French  in  the  Far  East,  laity,   35; 


missioners,  10,  20,  32,  33,  35,  40, 
63,  77,  86,  90,  100,  102,  108,  111, 
123,  134,  145,  150,  193,  201,  207, 
258,  263,  295. 
Fukushima,  60-63. 

Gauthier,    Fr.,    207,    208,    210-221, 

245,  246. 

Gendreau,  Bp.,  252,  258,  261. 
Gennaro,  Bp.,  132,  136,  137,  140. 
Germans  in  the  Far  East,  missioners, 

24,  40,  92-94. 
Gotti,  Cardinal,  197. 

Hai-Duong,  251. 

Haimen,    161,    162,    166,    167,    168, 

170,  171. 

Hainan,  246,  247,  271,  272. 

Haiphong,  246,  247-251,  269-271, 
273. 

Hakodate,  58,  71,  303. 

Hangchow,  177,  179,  180. 

Hankow,  131-134,  140-142,  144. 

Hanna,  Abp.,  14,  15. 

Hanoi,  246,  251-253,  259-262,  263. 

Harty,  Abp.,  231. 

Hawthorne,  247,  268,  295. 

Heck,  Fr.  (S.  M.),  65,  66. 

Heinrich,  Fr.  (S.  M.),  45,  65 

Hoban,  Bp.,  4. 

Hoffman,  Fr.  (S.  J.),  40. 

Hogan,  Abb6  (S.  S.),  247. 

Hongkong,  175,  181,  183-189,  210, 
243,  244,  273-275,  279,  294,  295, 
311. 

Hoihow,  271,  273. 

Hollanders  in  the  Far  East,  mis- 
sioners, 24,  130,  143,  144,  153. 

Honolulu,  21-25,  317. 

Hoogers,  Fr.,  153,  296. 

Hospitals  and  dispensaries,  54,  110, 
111,  112,  117,  120,  122,  123,  128, 
140,  141,  143,  144,  146,  151,  152, 
153,  154,  189,  230,  258,  313. 

Hurth,  Bp.,  242. 

Imbert,  Bp.,  91. 

Imperial  University,  41,  68. 

Indo-China,  243-266,  267-270,  313, 
316. 

Industrial  training  in  the  missions, 
69,  86,  89,  94,  115,  118,  121,  123, 
128,  129,  147,  149,  167,  186,  209, 
236,  270. 

Irish  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  34,  73, 
74,  102,  105,  113,  116,  141,  145, 
146,  148,  149,  158,  175,  191,  192, 

246,  247,  275,  297;  missioners,  35, 
65,   112,   143,   146,   150,   151,   156, 

171,  206,  213,  228,  229,  240,  241. 


320 


Italians  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  113; 
missioners,  134,  137,  140,  142,  178, 
185,  187,  295. 

Jacquet,  Fr.,  52,  53,  59. 
Japan,  31-81,  300-305,  317. 
Japanese  Traits,  10,  26,  27,  43,  44, 

48,  51,  52,  71,  81,  106,  301,  308, 

314-316. 
Japanese    in    America,    14,    18,    26, 

29,  30. 
Japanese  in  Korea,  82,  83,  89,  91, 

94,95 
Jarlin,  Bp.,  117,  119,  124. 
Jesuits,  13,  14,  32,  ii,  39,  40,  41,  42, 

108,  144,  146-148,  149,  176,  209, 

212,  213,  236,  237,  302,  303,  312, 

313. 

Ke-beo,  253. 
Kennelly,  Fr.,  147,  149. 
Ke-so,  253,  257-259,  261. 
Kiang-nan,  149. 
Kiang-si,  143. 
Kiang-su,  134,  144-150. 
Kiashing,  177-179. 
Kiukiang,  128,  143,  144. 
Kim,  Fr.  Andrew,  93. 
Knights  of  Columbus,  238,  308. 
Kobe,  72,  73,  145,  301-303. 
Kongmoon,  275,  278,  291. 
Kong-yet,  280-282. 
Korea,  29,  82-97,  146. 
Korean  Traits,  29,  83,  91,  308. 
Kowloon,  243,  245,  295,  296. 
Kuling,  144. 
Kwangtung,  197,  200. 
Kwonghoi,  281,  283,  289,  292. 
Kyoto,  66,  68,  69. 

Langson,  248,  261,  263-266,  267-269. 
Lazarists,  21,  108,  109,  110,  117,  126, 

127,  134,  143,  145,  156,  171,  178, 

180,  181,312,313. 
Leprosy,  23,  24,  199,  200,  201-206. 
Ligneul,  Fr.,  270,  273. 
Lipa,  239. 

Lo  Pa  Hong,  150,  151. 
Loting,  185,  197. 

Macao,  208-210. 

MacGinley,  Bp.,  225,  226,  230,  240, 

242. 
Malate,  228. 
Manchuria,  97-105,  145. 
Manila,    224-232,    235-242. 
Marists,  9. 

Martin.  Fr.,  261-262,  270,  273. 
Martyrs,  24,  36,  55,  68,  75,  76,  82, 

91,  92,  93,  94,  134,  190,  247,  250, 


251,  252-258,  262,  316. 

Maryknoll,  on-the-Hudson,  1,  4,  5, 
7,  13,  29,  113,  114,  140,  153,  184. 
185,  195,  247,  268,  296,  315, 
317;  at-Scranton,  3,  4,  7,  35,  149, 
256,  307;  in-San- Francisco,  13,  14; 
in-China,  184,  187,  195-197,  207, 
209,  210,  215-220,  245,  274,  279, 
286,  316,317,  318. 

Matheron,  Fr.,  261-262. 

Maubant,  Fr.,  91. 

Maynooth  Mission,  181. 

McCloskey,  Bp.,  242. 

Menlo  Park,  12,  13,  29. 

Milan  missioners,  185,  295. 

Mission  Shops,  121,  123,  177. 

Missioners  of  the  Sacred  Heart, 
22-24. 

Moji,  73. 

Molokai,  22,  23,  26,  201. 

Monnier,  Fr.,  274. 

Montreal,  194. 

Mormons,  9,  10. 

Mukden,  97-105,  106,  145. 

Mutel,  Bp.,  81,  86,  87,  88,  90,  93-97. 

Nagasaki,  73,  74,  75-80,  85,  146,  300, 
301. 

Native  Brothers,  79,  129,  157,  158, 

Native  clergy,  21,  37,  39,  40,  42,  52, 
53,  54,  55,  56,  57,  59,  60,  70,  76, 
77,  78,  79,  80,  85,  86,  92,  93,  96. 
99,  100,  101,  102,  104,  109,  134, 
137,  150,  153,  168,  181,  194,  196, 
199,  203,  209,  212,  219,  220,  232, 
233,  249,  254,  256,  258,  260,  280, 
281,  283,  286,  298,  314. 

Native  Sisters,  35,  54,  59,  86,  90, 
101,  103,  110,  117,  129,  137,  138, 
156,  157,  167,  168,  195,  258,  298. 

Nazareth,  186,  187,  274,  294,  295. 

Newspapers  and  magazines,  37,  109, 
146,  238,  239. 

New  Testament,  78. 

New  York,  2,  3,  54,  61,  145,  286. 

Nikko,  47,  48-52. 

Ningpo,  154-159,  161,  173,  245. 

O'Doherty,  Abp.,  226,  230,  231,  232, 

237,  238,  239,  242. 
Omura,  75. 
Orphanages,  84,  86,  89,  103,  104,  118, 

121,  122,  137,  138,  140,  141,  142, 

143,  157,  161,  168,  169,  189,    192, 

195. 
Osaka,  10,  68,  69-71. 
Osonf,  Bp.,  63. 

Pagan  worship,  35,  49-51,  55,  60,  69, 
76,    127,  135,  136,  160,   162,  163, 


321 


173,  181,  187,  214,  218,  265,  266, 
274,  275,  279,  280,  286,  287,  302, 
304,  317. 

Pakhai,  279,  289,  291. 
Paris,  Bp.,  147,  148,  149,  153,  176. 
Paris   Foreign    Mission  Society,   14, 
34,  40,  53,  63,  66,  91,  99,  100,  145, 

183,  186,  252,  257,  263,  270,  290, 
295,  317. 

Paulists,  5,  14,  30,  196. 

Pawnshop,  Catholic,  in  Pliilippines, 

238. 
Peking,  21,  117-124,  131,  140,  311. 
Penang,  244. 
Perboyre,  Bl.  Gabriel,  134,  135,  143, 

157. 
Persecutions,  27,  31,  36,  55,  75,  76, 

82,  93,    100,    105,    111,    112,    119, 

120,  121,  134,  135,  157,  250,  251, 

257,  261,  262. 
PetreHi,  Msgr.,  70,  227,  238,  249. 
Pettier,  Fr.,  34,  303. 
Pettijean,  Bp.,  31,  75,  76. 
Phat-diem,  259. 
Philippine  Islands,  86,  225-242,  316, 

317. 
Phuyli,  257-259. 
Picpus  Fathers,  see  "Missioners  of 

the  Sacred  Heart." 
Pokfulum,    184,  186,  187,  270,  273, 

274,  294,  295. 
Polish  missioners,  190. 
Portuguese  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  35, 

152,  _  182,     197,    208,    209,    243; 

missioners,  208,  209,  212. 
Pozzoni,  Bp.,  185-187,  190,  294,  295. 
Procures,    13,    145,    146,    153,    183, 

184,  185. 
Propositum,  4. 

Protestant  missionaries,  17,  18,  19, 
20,  21,  28,  30,  37,  49,  51,  52,  62, 
75,  84,  94,  95,  113,  136,  139,  140, 
144,  156,  163,  164,  200,  202,  228, 
236,  261,  263,  279,  280,  310,  317. 

Raguet,  Fr.,  78. 
Red  Cross,  101,  276. 
Redemptorists,  17,  228,  295. 
Rey,  Abp.,  32,,  34,  37,  38,  44,  45,  47, 

66,  303,  304,  305. 
Reynaud,  Bp.,  155,  157,  158,  173. 
Robert,  Fr.,  145,  183,  185,  187,  189. 
Rome,  184,  195,  197,  317. 
Russians  in  the  Far  East,  laity,  81, 

97,  113. 
Ruys,  Bp.,  249. 

Saigon,  259. 
Salesians,  209. 


Sallou,  Fr.,  145,  149,  150,  151,  153. 

Salmon,  Fr.,  78. 

Salt  Lake  City,  7,  9,  10. 

Samshui,  211. 

Sancian  Island,  276,  277,  282-288, 
309. 

San  Francisco,  7,  12,  13-15,  307,  317. 

Scheut  missioners,  153,  154,  296. 

Schools,  3,  4,  23,  24,  25,  36,  39,  40, 
41,  42,  43,  44,  45,  46,  54,  70-72, 
79,  89,  102,  103,  110,  112,  113,  128, 
129,  130,  133,  136,  137,  140,  143, 
144,  146,  147,  152,  153,  154,  156, 
169,  189,  192,  209,  228,  229,  230, 
236,  243,  244,  280,  285,  286,  301, 
304,  313,  317. 

Scotch  in  the  Far  East,  missioners, 
106,  144,  178. 

Scranton  (see  also  "Maryknoll-at- 
Scranton"),  2,  3,  7,  247. 

Seattle,  275,  306,  308. 

Seminaries,  4,  12,  13,  29,  37,  40,  53, 
55,  57,  84,  85,  92,  93,  102,  103, 
110,  118,  129,  136,  143,  149,  156, 
178,  192,  209,  244,  249,  253,  257, 
263,  281,  303. 

Sendai,  47,  51,  52-58. 

Seoul,  81,  86-97. 

Shameen,  193,  197,  208. 

Shanghai,  29,  143,  145-154,  175-177, 
181,  296-299,  311,  318. 

Sheklung,  200,  201-206. 

Shimonoseki,  74,  80. 

Shi-pu,  164,  165. 

Shiuhing,  212,  213. 

Sicawei,  146,  147,  149,  150,  304. 

Silin,  185. 

Sisters  (see  also  "Native  Sisters"), 
Assumptionist,  228,  229;  Canossian, 
137,  140-142,  187,  243;  Dominican, 
182;  Franciscan,  23;  Franciscan 
Missionaries  of  Mary,  113,  116, 
154,212, 213, 2^Q\  Little  Sisters  of  the 
Poor,  192,  193,  206,  207;  of  Charity, 
7,  111,  112,  116,  117,  120-123,  124, 
128,  129,  140,  143,  144,  151,  155, 
156,  157,  160,  161,  163;  of  the 
Good  Shepherd,  241;  of  the  Holy 
Infant  Jesus,  73;  of  Holy  Souls, 
149,  154,  298;  of  the  Immaculate 
Conception,  194,  195,  202,  203,  296; 
of  St.  Maur,  35,  39,  40,  54;  of  St. 
Paul  de  Chartres,  89,  189,  258; 
Sacred  Heart  nuns,  13,  25,  43,  44; 
Trappistines,  58,  59. 

Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Faith,  54,  89. 

Songkaong,  181. 

Spanish  missioners,  182,  212,  243, 
244,  269. 


322 


Spenner,  Fr.,  33,  36,  303-305. 

St.  Sulpice,  12,  13,  203,  247. 

Statistics,  18,  20,  21,  34,  35,  40,  48, 
52,  61,  64,  70,  107,  130,  150,  153, 
195,  198,  228,  285,  311,  314,  316. 

Steichen,  Fr.,  37,  45,  303,  304. 

Sunning,  279,  280,  291. 

Support  of  missions,  58,  85,  88,  89, 
104,  HI,  118,  119,  122,  128,  129, 
130,  132,  136,  158,  161,  162,  170, 
192,  264,  265,  312-314. 

Swatow,  244,  273. 

Swiss  in  the  Far  East,  missioners,  40. 

Taichowfu,  155,  158,  161,  163,  167- 
169,  175. 

Taikou,  82,  83-86. 

Thomas,  Fr.,  276,  277,  278,  281-288, 
309. 

Tientsin,  105,  107-116,  130,  311. 

Tinghai,  160. 

Tokyo,  10,  33,  34,  36-46,  48,  53,  57, 
63-66,  78,  84,  303,  304. 

Tongking,  243,  247-266,  267-271. 

Tongkinese  Traits  (see  also  "Anna- 
mite  Traits"),  308. 

Trappists,  58,  59. 

Travel,  4,  36,  41,  42,  47-49,  52,  66, 
73-75,  81,  104,  105,  106,  107,  124, 
125,  126,  129,  131,  132,  134, 
143,  155,  158,  161-164,  165,  166, 
169-173,  177,  178,  181-183,  191, 
207,  210-212,  213-216,  217,  223, 
224-225,  244-245,  247,  251,  253, 
254,  257,  259,  260,  263,  266,  269- 


273,   274,   275-277,   279-284,   287- 

293,  300. 
Tulpin,  Fr.,  63,  64. 
Tungon,  213. 
Typhoon,  30-33. 

Urakami,  78,  79,  301, 

V^nard,  Bl.  Theophane,  6,  71,  90, 
247,  248,  251-256,  261,  262,  295, 
316. 

V6nard  College,  see  "Maryknoll-in- 
Scranton." 

Versoza,  Bp.,  239,  240. 

Villion,  Fr.,  301,  302. 

Wanfo,  185. 

War,  civil,  131,  138,  139,  141,  157, 
161,  173,  174,  196,  210,  216,  217, 
245,  275,  276,  280,  281,  286,  289, 
313,  316,  317;  European,  40,  5^, 
79,  99,  103,  106,  140,  146,  184. 

West  River,  193,  195,  211,  220,  279. 

Wuchang,  132,  133,  134-140. 

Wuhu,  144. 

Xavier,  St.  Francis,  32,  276,  283,  284, 
285,  286. 

Yalu  River,  98. 

Yangtze  River,  132,  134,  143,  145. 

Yeungkong,  184,  185,  197,  207,  245, 

274-276,  279,  281,  286,  318. 
Yokohama,  10,  31,  32-36,  39,  40,  59, 

66,  106,  303-305. 


323 


MARYKNOLL     PUBLICATIONS 


THE  FIELD  AFAR 

Organ  of  the 
Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of  America 


This  foreign  mission  monthly  began  publication 
in  1907,  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  establish- 
ment of  the  American  Seminary  for  Foreign 
Missions,  now  happily  a  fact. 


It  has  attracted  world-wide  notice  and  sustained 
a  universal  interest  from  the  beginning.  Such 
tributes  as  that  which  follows  are  frequent : 

"Allow  me  to  say  that  I  derive  great  profit 
from  reading  your  excellent  mission  paper. 
It  is  a  tonic  for  both  body  and  soul — enter- 
taining as  well  as  instructive.  More  power 
to  you!" 


Subscription:  One  dollar  a  year 
(Including  membership  in   the   Society) 

Send  for  a  sample  copy. 

READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 


FOR  THE  FAITH 

The   story  of 

Just  de  Bretenieres 

(Pronounced  Bret-on-yair) 

A  nineteenth-century  apostle  who  was  martyred 

in  Korea. 


This  work  was  prepared  under  the  direction  of 
the  martyr's  brother,  Fr.  Christian,  who  died 
recently  in  Dijon,  France.  It  has  been  translated 
by  Florence  Gilmore,  and  the  preface  is  by  the 
Superior  of  Maryknoll,  who  met  Fr.  Christian  in 
France  and  later  visited  the  scene  of  Just's 
martyrdom. 


179  pages  and  17  illustrations. 
Attractively  bound  in  dark  red  cloth  stamped  in  gold. 

Price,  One  Dollar,  Postpaid 


READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

A  MODERN  MARTYR 

Life  and  Letters  of 

Blessed  Theophane  Venard 


Ten  thousand  copies  of  this  popular   biography 
are  now  circulating  in  the  United  States. 


A  story  of  a  saintly  and  heroic  young  French 
missioner,  whose  life  is  full  of  human  interest 
and  divine  inspiration. 


What  the  late  beloved  Cardinal  Farley  said  of 
Theophane  V^nard's  life: 

"I  think  A  Modern  Martyr  is  the  most  fas- 
cinating book  I  have  read  in  a  long  time. 
I  can  hardly  put  it  out  of  my  hands,  and 
have  finished  reading  half  of  it  already.  I 
have  instructed  the  president  of  our  Cathe- 
dral College  to  place  a  copy  in  the  hands  of 
each  of  our  petit  seminarists,  and  I  feel  con- 
vinced that  no  better  book  could  be  given 
them  for  their  spiritual  reading." 


Bound  in  cloth.  245  pages.  15  illustrations. 

Price,  75  cents,  postpaid 

READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

An   American   Missionary 
In  Alaska 

The  Story  of  Fr.  Judge,  S.  J. 


The  Chapter  headings  suggest  the  keen   interest  which 
the  book  arouses  in  all  who  read  it: 

I  —  The  Preparation 
II  —  The  Priesthood 
III — The  Rocky  Mountain  Mission 
IV  — OfF  for  Alaska 
V  —  On  the  Yukon 

VI  —  Forty  Mile  Post  and  Circle  City 
VII — The  Rush  to  the  Klondike 
VIII  —  Dawson  City 
IX  —  His  Death  and  Funeral 
X  —  Tributes  of  Respect  and  Affection 


304  pages.  20  illustrations.  In  cloth. 

Price,  75  cents,  Postpaid 

READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

THE  MARTYR  OF 
FUTUNA 


The  life  story  of  this  nineteenth-century  martyr 
of  Oceania  has  been  translated  from  the  French 
by  Florence  Gilmore  and  has  already  found  a 
host  of  readers. 


"A  valuable  addition  to  the  Catholic  For- 
eign Mission  Society's  list  of  publications. 
*  *  *  *  A  copy  of  this  book  in  the  hands  of 
those  interested  in  the  missions  may  mean 
an  increased  number  of  vocations.  *  *  *  * 
Catholic  libraries  especially  should  not  fail 
to  procure  this  biography."  — America. 


Bound  in  cloth.  208  Pages.  16  illustrations. 

Price,  75  cents,  Postpaid 

READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

FIELD   AFAR  STORIES 

VOLUME  I 

Fifteen    Short   stories   inspired    by    the    foreign 
mission  idea. 


Here  are  the  titles: 

San  Min's  Treasure 

The  Fruit  of  the  Wistaria 

A  Mother's  Victory 

The  Store  Across  the  Way 

Her  Dearest  Treasure 

Pere  Emmanuel's  Vocation 

Marie  Agnes 

The  Turning-Point 

Our  Lady's  Mission 

Pe-Lou 

The  Call 

A  Mandarin's  Son 

A  Feast  Day  Gift 

The  Young  Fisherman 

In  a  Garden 


Attractively  bound  in  yellow  cloth,  stamped  in 
blue.     160  pages.     17  illustrations. 

Price,  60  cents,  Postpaid 


READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

FIELD  AFAR  STORIES 

VOLUME  II 

An  earlier  edition  of  this  volume  appeared  under 
the  title,  Field  Afar  Tales. 


Twenty  short  stories 
of  foreign  mission  life  and  aspirations. 


"Up  at  the  new  Catholic  Foreign  Mission 
Se'minary  the  purpose  of  educating  the  Cath- 
olic public  of  America  in  the  matter  of  its 
duty  to  the  foreign  missions  goes  on  apace. 
Month  after  month  the  brilliant  Field  Afar 
comes  from  the  press  to  the  homes  of  Amer- 
ican Catholics  and  quietly  fans  the  flames 

of  enthusiasm 

"The  volume  before  us,  Field  Afar  Stories, 
is  most  welcome  and  will,  we  believe,  produce 

definite  fruit 

"The  tales  attributed  to  Fr.  John  Wakefield 
are  clear  and  terse  echoes  of  what  might 
have  been  if  American  Catholics  were  in- 
terested in  the  evangelization  of  the 
Orient.  Some  of  the  stories  are  by  a  Ter- 
esian  of  Maryknoll.  These  also  strike  home 
and  sound  as  if  they  were  founded  on  fact. 
The  many  dramatic  incidents  that  daily 
come  to  our  shores  from  China  and  Japan 
furnish  the  theme  of  the  tales,  and  the 
material  is  well  handled." — Brooklyn  Tablet. 


Cloth  bound.         163  pages.  16  illustrations. 

Price,  60  cents,  Postpaid 

READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

THOUGHTS  FROM  MODERN 
MARTYRS 


A  book  small  enough  to  slip  into  the  pocket  for 
a  quiet  read. 


It  is  made  up  of  short  sentences  from: 

Just  de  Bretenieres 
Blessed  Theophane  Venard 
Henry  Dorie 

All    three    nineteenth-century    martyrs    and     all 
alumni  of  the  Paris  Foreign  Mission  Seminary. 


This   book   contains   also   a   brief  biography  of 
each  martyr. 


Printed  in  large  clear  type,  122  pages,  illustrated 
with  photographs  of  the  three  martyrs.  Bound 
in  cloth. 

Price,  40  cents,  Postpaid 


READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 


THE  MARYKNOLL  JUNIOR 

A  Foreign  Mission  Monthly 
For  Young  People 


Inspiriting 

Enlightening 

Amusing 


"Bound  to  be  as  successful  as  its  daddy,"  writes 
a  well-known  priest,  who  "begins  to  lose  his 
health"  when  his  Field  Afar  is  late;  and  he  adds, 
"Send  me  one  hundred  for  a  starter." 


Single  subscription 35  cents  a  yeeu* 

Ten  or  more  copies  to  one 

address 25  cents  a  year 


READ  SPREAD 


MARYKNOLL    PUBLICATIONS 

The  Monthly  that  is  Read  from 
Cover  to  Cover 


If  you  have  been  looking  over  these  final  pages 
it  is  possible  that  you  have  overlooked  that  which 
announced  The  Field  Afar, 


We  could  have  filled  this  entire  volume  with 
tributes  to  that  popular  mission  monthly.  It 
suffices,  however,  to  remind  you  that  Observations 
in  the  Orient  first  appeared  serially  in  The  Field 
Afar,  and  that  the  present  experiences  of  the 
MaryknoU  missioners  are  now  being  recorded  in 
its  pages. 


A  sample  copy  will  be  sent  on  request. 


One  Year's  subscription $1.00 

Six  Years'  subscription 5.00 

Membership  in  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society 
is  included  with  all  subscriptions. 


READ  SPREAD 


FOR  FURTHER  INFORMATION  ABOUT 
CATHOLIC  FOREIGN  MISSIONS 

General : 

Atlas  Hierachicus 

Catholic  Mission  Feast  (300  pp.) Rev.  A.  Freitag,  S.  V.  D. 

A  Manual  for  Mission  Celebrations 

Christian  Missions  (2  vols.  11 58  pp.) T.  W.  Marshall 

Church  in  Many  Lands  (289  pp.) Rev.  J.  J.  Burke 

For  the  Kingdom  of  God  (250  pp.) Rt.  Rev.  N.  Weber,  O.  S.  B. 

Thoughts  and  meditations  on  foreign  mission  work 

Foreign  Missions  in  Our  Schools  (200  pp.) Rev.  F.  Schwager,  S.  V.  D. 

God  Wills  It  (64  pp.) Rev.  X.  Brors,  S.  J. 

Lights  and  Shadows  (228  pp.) Rev.  J.  Spieler,  P.  S.  M. 

Scenes  and  Sketches  from  the  Missions 
Our  Lord's  Last  Will  and  Testament  (240  pp.) . .  .  Rev.  H.  Fischer,  S.  V.  D. 
Sermons  and  Lectures  on  the  Foreign  Missions 

(Vol.  1,  175  pp.) :■•••.■. ■  ^^^-  ^-  Huonder,  S.  J. 

Twenty  Years'  Medical  Work  in  Mission  Countries 

(1 10  pp.) Margaret  Lamont,  M.  D. 

Vital  Mission  Problem  of  the  Day  (136  pp.) Rev.  F.  Schwager,  S.  V.  D. 

The  Growth  and  Influence  of  Protestant  Missions 

Workers  Are  Few,  The  (220  pp.) Rev.  P.  Manna 

Yonder?     (170  pp.) Rev.  T.  Gavan  Duffy 


Biographical  and  Historical: 

A  Modern  Martyr  (241  pp.) V.Rev.  Jas.A.Walsh,A.F.M, 

Life  and  Letters  of  Bl.  Th^ophane  Venard 
An  American  Missionary  (340  pp.) Rev.  C.  Judge,  S.  S. 

Rev.  William  Judge,  S.  J.,  in  Alaska 
Arnold  Janssen  (136  pp.) Rev.  F.  Schwager,  S.  V.  D. 

Founder  of  the  Society  of  the  Divine  Word 
Bishop  de  Mazenod  (457  pp.) V.  Rev.  E.  Baffie,  0.  M.  I. 

Founder  of  the  Society  of  Oblates 
Blessed  Spinola  and  Other  Japanese  Martyrs.  .  .  .Rev.  J.  Broeckaert,  S.  J. 

Damien  of  Molokai  (184  pp.) M.  Quinan 

Don  Bosco  (300  pp.) Lady  Martin 

Founder  of  the  Salesian  Society 

Father  Damien  (46  pp.) R.  L.  Stevenson 

Father  Jogues Rev.  F.  Martin,  S.  J. 

Father  Lacombe  (468  pp.) C.  Hughes 

Father  Laval /.  McSherry . 

Father  Marquette  (164  pp.) Rev.  S.  Hedges,  A.  M. 

For  the  Faith  (179  pp.) C.  Appert  and  F.  Gilmore 

Life  of  Just  de  Bretenieres,  martyred  in  Korea 

Heroes  of  the  Mission  Field  (298  pp.) Rev.  H.  Wegener,  S.  V.  D. 

Twelve  short  lives  of  famous  missioners  and  martyrs  of  recent  years 
Martyr  of  Futuna  (200  pp.) Translated  by  F.  Gilmore 

Bl.  Peter  Chanel,  S.  M.,  first  martyr  of  Oceania 

Ven.  Francis  Libermann  (33  pp.) Rev.  G.  Lee,  C.  S.  Sp. 

Ven.  Father  Colin  (366  pp.) 

Founder  of  the  Society  of  Mary 
V.  Rev.  Felix  de  Andreis,  C.  M.  (321  pp.). Rt.  Rev.  J.  Rosatti,  C.  M. 

First  Superior  of  the  Congregation  of  the  Mission  in  the  U.  S. 
Rev.  Samuel  Mazzuchelli,  O.  P.  (375  pp.) A  Dominican  Sister 

Missionary  Apostolic  in  the  Middle  West 


Pauline  Marie  Jaricot  (309  pp.) M.I.  Maurin 

Founder  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith 

St.  Francis  Xavier M.T.  Kelly 

Catholic  Pioneers  of  America  (433  pp.) J.  Murray,  M.  A. 

Martyrs  of  the  Holy  Childhood  (413  pp.) A  Priest  of  the  Mission 

California  and  Its  Missions  (2  vols.,  766  pp.) .  .  .  .B .  J.  Clinch 

Franciscans  in  Arizona  (236  pp.) Rev.  Z.  Engelhardt,  O.  F.  M. 

Franciscans  in  California  (532  pp.) Rev.  Z.  Engelhardt,  O.  F.  M. 

History  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  the  U.  S J.G.  Shea 

An  authoritative  account  of  the  progress  of  the  Church  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific 

Pioneer  Priests  of  North  America  (3  vols.) Rev.  T.  Campbell 

Western  Missions  and  Missionaries Rev.  P.  J.  de  Smet,  S.  J. 

The  Apostolate  in  Africa  (124  pp.) A  White  Father 

Catholic  Church  in  China  from  1860  to  1907 

(504  pp.). Rev.B.  Wolferstan,  S.  J. 

Christianity  in  China,  Tartary,  and  Thibet  (2  vols) Abbe  Hue 
Researches  into  Chinese  Superstitions  (2  vols.). . .  Rev.  H.  Dare,  S.  J. 

With  Christ  in  China  (318  pp.) Rev.  J.  P.  McQuaide 

Our  Missionary  Life  in  India  (461  pp.) Rev.  J.  Carroll 

The  Cross  in  Japan  (192  pp.) CM.  Caddell 

Korean  Martyrs J.  R.  Shortland 

Martyrs  of  Korea London  Oratory 

The  Lepers  of  Molokai  (138  pp.) Chas.  W.  Stoddard 

Persecutions  of  Annam  (430  pp.) J.  R.  Shortland 


Pamphlets : 

American  Priests  and  Foreign  Missions  (20  pp.) .  .Rev.  A.B.  O'  Neill,  C.  S.  C. 

America's  Answer Rev.  P.  J.  Sontag,  S.  J. 

An  appeal  to  the  boys  of  America  for  vocations 

Catechism  on  Foreign  Missions  (32  pp.) Rev.  J.  V.  McGlinchey,  D.D. 

Catholic  Church  in  China  (11  pp.) Rev.  P.  Clement 

Catholic  Church  in  the  Philippines  (32  pp.) A  Missioner,  S.  V.  D 

Hour  of  God  in  the  Foreign  Missions  (37  pp.) Rev.  H.  Gil,  S.  J. 

Irish  Mission  to  China  (27  pp.) Rev.  Jos.  O'Leary 

Maryknoll — the  American  Seminary  for  Foreign  Missions 

Marist  Missions  in  the  Pacific  (3  nos.  56  pp.) . .  .  .Rt,  Rev.  J.  Grimes,  S.  M. 

Conditions  in  the  Philippines  (28  pp.) Rev.  J.  P.  Monaghan,  S.  J. 

Catholic  Missions  (5  nos.,  80  pp.) Rev.  Hilarion  Gil,  S.  J. 

Missions  of  China  (24  pp.) A.  H.  Atteridge 

Missions  of  India  (24  pp.) A.  H.  Atteridge 

Benedictine  Nuns  in  Africa  (24  pp.) 

Catholic  Church  in  Japan  (32  pp.) Bishop  of  Salford 

Catholic  Missionaries  in  China,  Korea,  etc.  (22  pp)M.  C.  L. 
English  Catholics  and  Foreign  Missions  (16  pp.)  .Rev.  T.  Jackson 

Don  Bosco  (24  pp.) Mrs.  R.  Barker 

Father  Damien  (31  pp.) 

Five  Dominican  Martyrs  in  China  (24  pp.) 

First  Martyr  of  Oceania  (25  pp.) A.  W.  Chetwoode 

Martyr  of  Japan — Fr.  Mastrilli  (931  pp.) Y.  Oswin 

Cardinal  Vaughan  (24  pp.) Rt.  Rev.  Msgr.  Ward 

St.  Francis  Xavier  (24  pp.) 

St.  Peter  Claver  (24  pp.) Rev.  J.  Sola,  S.  J. 

Native  Clergy  for  Mission  Countries  (16  pp.) Rt.  Rev.  J.  Freri 

Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith  (40  pp.)  .  .  Rt.  Rev.  J.  Freri 

History  and  official  report  since  foundation  in  1822 
Woman's  Misery  and  Woman's  Aid  in  Foreign 

Missions  (48  pp.) Rev.  F.  Schwager,  S.  V.  D. 


Periodicals: 

Annals  of  the  Holy  Childhood 6  issues  yearly,  $0.25 

Association  of  the  Holy  Childhood,  Pittsburg,  Pa. 

j  Annals  of  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith 6  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

J  Catholic  Missions 12  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

J  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Faith 

^^  343  Lexington  Ave.,  New  York  City 

Echo  from  Africa 12  issues  yearly,  $0.50 

Organ  of  the  Sodality  of  St.  Peter  Claver  for  African  Missions 

St.  Joseph's  Foreign  Mission  Advocate 4  issues  yearly,  $0.60 

Organ  of  St.  Joseph's  Foreign  Mission  Society,  Mill  Hill,  England 

St.  Michael's  Almanac $0.25 

A  mission  Annual,  Society  of  the  Divine  Word,  Techny,  111. 

The  African  Missionary 6  issues  yearly,  $0.25 

Organ  of  the  Society  for  African  Missions,  Cork,  Ireland 

The  Lamp 12  issues  yearly,  $2.00 

For  Church  Unity  and  Missions 

Society  of  the  Atonement,     Graymoor,  Garrison,  N.  Y. 

The  Evangelist 12  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

Organ  for  the  S.  P.  F.,  Diocese  of  Albany,  Rensselaer,  N.  Y. 

The  Far  East 12  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

Organ  of  the  Irish  Mission  to  China,  St.  Columban  College, 
Galway,  Ireland,  or  Omaha,  Nebraska 

'"The  Field  Afar 12  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

Organ  of  the  Catholic  Foreign  Mission  Society  of  America 

The  Maryknoll  Junior 12  issues  yearly,  $0.35 

A  Foreign  Mission  Monthly  for  Catholic  Youth 
The  American  Seminary  for  Foreign  Missions,  Maryknoll,  Ossining,  N.  Y. 

The  Good  Work 12  issues  yearly,  $1.00 

Organ  of  the  S.  P.  F.,  Archdiocese  of  N.  Y. 
462  Madison  Ave.,  N.  Y.  C. 

The  Little  Missionary 10  issues  yearly,  $0.25 

A  Mission  paper  for  boys  and  girls 
Society  of  the  Divine  Word,  Techny,  111. 

The  M.  A.  C.  W.  Mission  Message 12  issues  yearly,  $0.50 

For  Home  and  Foreign  Missions 
Missionary  Association  of  Catholic  Women,  834  36th  St.,  Milwaukee,  Wis. 

The  Missionary 12  issues  yearly,  $2.00 

For  the  conversion  of  America 

The  Paulist  Fathers,  Brookland,  Washington,  D.  C. 

The  Negro  Child 12  issues  yearly,  $0.25 

To  interest  children  in  the  Negro  Missions 

Society  of  St.  Peter  Claver,  Fullerton  Bldg.,  St.  Louis,  Mo. 

The  Students*  Mission  Crusade Free  to  colleges,  seminaries,  etc. 

Bulletins  of  the  movement 

Field  Secretary,  Catholic  University,  Washington,  D.  C. 

The  Zambezi  Mission  Record 4  issues  yearly,  $0.60 

Manresa,  Roehampton,  London,  England 


Stories: 

Chinese  Lanterns  (160  pp.) Alice  Dease 

Cross  and  Chrysanthemum  (398  pp.) Rev.  J.  Spillman,  S.  J. 

A  tale  of  Japan 

Children  of  Cupa  (169  pp.) MaryE.  Mannix 

Cupa  Revisited  (136  pp.) Mary  E.  Mannix 

Field  Afar  Stories  (2  vols.,  156  and  163  pp.) 

A  collection  of  mission  tales  from  The  Field  Afar,  Maryknoll 

Fr.  Paul's  Story  Box  (134  pp.) Elsa  Schmitt 

P6re  Jean  (211  pp.) J.  McSherry 

A  story  of  the  Jesuit  missions 
I.aurentia  (256  pp.) Lady  FuUerton 

A  mission  tale  of  Japan 
Oramaika 

An  Indian  story 

Red  Circle,  The  (320  pp.) G.  A.  Reynolds 

Tales  of  Foreign  Lands  (12  vols,  about  120  pp.  each)  Rev.  J.  Spillman,  S,  J* 

Plays : 

Andaluma  (80  pp.) Msgr.  Le  Roy,  C.  5.  Sp. 

An  African  mission  play  for  boys  and  young  men 

Fountain  of  Matarieh Society  for  African  Missions 

Walburga Society  of  the  Divine  Word 


Mission  Devotions.    (50  pp.) Society  of  the  Divine  Word 

Mission  Songs.    (50  pp.) 

Text  and  notes Society  of  the  Divine  Word 


Due  to  uncertain  conditions  in  the  printing  trades, 
all  prices  are  subject  to  change. 


i 


UC  IRVINE  LIBRARY 


I  Hi 


3  1970  00966  0900 


111 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •   Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


JAN  1  2  2004 


W 


w  1 


9i 


GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U  S  A 

UCSOinHIHN 


Rrr.inrjM  i  iR"'^";',[,f'£'l|',mi 


AA    000  596  300    4 


